Fan Lewis says he’ll take out the knees
of any old boy who comes at him, why,
he’d hit ‘em with that
million-candle flashlight
and down they’d go.
Ain’t nobody
got the better of him yet,
shit.
Six beers at a time Fan drinks
while the Saturday sun climbs
Set ‘em up six in the Koozie cups
six cans down and a trip to the Royal
Three cans in, Fan Lewis wants to tell you how,
blonde hairs loose on his tee shirt shoulder,
there must be a way (four cans now)
to solve the problem of perpetual motion
We just ain’t
thought of it yet
Six beers at once Fan Lewis drinks
when the Sunday blues ring
Set ‘em up five, and four to go
there’s Monday coming with nothing to show
C.B. Crenshaw 
[…] building an alternative grounded in context, focused on capturing the prosaic or humanizing the proletarian (to the best of my meager ability, at least), can make us feel a little more anchored in the swift […]
LikeLike