I. Go and Get It

H.L. reached into one of the large pockets

sewn in the lining of his steel overcoat.

The bottles rattled–chink against chink of glass.

He felt for his flask, took a quick nip.

Julia made a mean dandelion wine–

the jelly bags strained each morning,

the stone jar skimmed clean.

Neither had much of what they call a formal education,

but H.L. possessed what they did call a natural business sense.

He was the keenest of salesmen, albeit prohibited,

and peddled his product door-to-door.

He straightened his tie, knocked four times on the swift.

And business being thus transacted,

tapped his hat rim, tucked the scratch in the bootleg

of his Goodyear Welts, rubbed the black mark

from his fingers. His eye caught the pavement.

He ripped up a weed that shot through the cracks.

II. He Comes Up Smiling

Big Bull Montana was the hardest hit in L.A.

He reigned as "Beastman" in The Lost World,

not outshined by co-star Jocko the monkey and his serial appearance

in The Amazing Exploits of the Clutching Hand

knocked ’em out cold. H.L., however,

was not Bull Montana, pro wrestler and leading light

of the Hollywood Horror circuit.

But he struck his own blows as a bare-knuckle prizefighter

in the subterranean Philly streets, taking falls for cash in hand–

three-minute rounds in the ring and he’d drop,

a downed man, bent on one knee.

If not a champ, then H.L. likened himself a hero,

at least a veteran. Hell, he’d paid his time in France

as a mule skinner during the War.

At any rate, he was a tough guy–

took it on the jaw and never hit the pavement–

so tough he needed a bodyguard to walk the streets.