Sunday, October 2, 2022

A Poem by H. Edgar Hix

Across the Street from the Wishing Well
(Phrases from Playmates)*

Privacy is not easy to find
she says, 
and writes poetry
to know a measure of isolation
at Beverly Hills

has acquired a year-round taste for 
Christianity and a modest lifestyle
however, her plans call for a trip to
somewhere between indignation and outrage.

I think crocodiles can jump
into womanhood
looking natural for the camera
just relaxing on the surf-soaked rocks.

Living with her mother,
a sample snap-shot or two of herself
first born in
a lens click

I want to be
a small house not far from
a full moon.

Most of her poems are about
her life in a remote Alaskan fishing village
wearing a hat -- and nothing else.

she was just a lens click
a dormant volcano
a professional poodle
our unenlightened past

here's our hope
to provide shelter from the storm
that I was able to define only later
As a child

Thank God she's a 
field with lots of mud
during the latter part of World War Two
with a knack for covert maneuvers.

she lived until four years ago
looking back, she wonders why

I feel very close to large animals,
leather bikinis
romantic poetry
and amusement park

in the desert
girls like to stew their beds
with the sun
and metaphysics
with ice in it

You should live through things rather than be
a bumblebee three years in a row
come face to face with
the line of pompom-wielding girls
even own a television set
Besides, there's always next summer.

woodland nymph likes
ashes of Chicago
all around

In Los Angeles money and sex are
giving her a woman's body from which to 
get married, have babies and watch television

With the ashes of Chicago
always in motion
through the crowd greeting people with a laugh and
I'm concerned, this is utopia.

hot fudge and footlights
that she might go after, just for fun,
and afterward settle down to raise a family.
"I never really pursued that dream," she says
I've learned how to be
on an assembly line

She lives in a small house not far from
World War Two, Korea and Vietnam
exercises and writes poetry.  Most of her poems are about
what the hell a Moon Pie is

my parents tell me I shouldn't get
a real religion
my family
couldn't even go to McDonald's

here I am, living the dream
to provide shelter from the storm
in big wardrobe racks
but if I continue to stay here I'm going to have to find a horse.

fabulously beautiful woman
paranoid about getting fat
writes poetry
obsessed with tall, emaciated girls

When the arrow went through the guy's chest
I went out and bought some books that explained how
Things seem to have a way of working out

you can be a phenom
get past the dogs
feel the vibe 
be the last character left alive

dreamed of becoming
an anonymous model
riding off into the spotlight

tall, emaciated girls
whose sentences have the force of

it's cold and you're naked
"I want to be the last character left alive
trying on hats in Ensenada

She steers clear of the fast lane
is always at the ready to flee
and confides that her secret ambition is to be
a promising threat

always been crazy about 
beautiful women
from popcorn peddler
She still lives in the thin air

the girl of your dreams
often screams at night
lives in a small house not far from
a brace of Dobermans and 
has "no desire to act,"

she likes to exercise her
nice breasts or
real religion
at random boutiques

busy making her mark in
lots and lots of hair spray
she said, "Wait a few years and then
I intend to study yoga and metaphysics

I've always wanted a Chihuahua
born in Jacksonville, Florida, and raised in
Christianity and a modest lifestyle

she smells like jasmine
in World War Two,
the hunted
not easy to find.

I believe very strongly in God.
But every so often I think, I sure hope he doesn't have a heart attack
to dramatize the dissenting viewpoint.

the line of pompom-wielding girls
Living in awesome beauty threatened by
a waitressing job
in Pittsburgh

the ocelot of often screams at night
Somewhere secluded, like
a beauty salon.

We discovered her at an exercise class
Not ready to go home and admit
the active pursuit of pleasure.
"I couldn't even go to McDonald's after class," she says.
but she likes to exercise her freedom
by not hanging up her clothes and not doing the dishes.

here's our hop for the future
as an anonymous
peach in June

For those unfamiliar with Boston,
happiness is what counts, and
leather bikinis, as small as the law permits
"Somehow, I think that's significant," she says.

four-wheeling in a field with lots of mud
she's been at it a year and a half now and 
During her spare time
she's dead serious about getting that ph.d.

She also has her sights set on
a rest after good sex
with the sun

I can't compose music,
But every so often I think,
bring on the violins
awash in daydreams

you're reading
romantic poetry
so ashamed of being skinny

it was so violent they had armed guards
across the street from
the wishing well

I want to be
little doubt Brittany
from the ocean
in touch with her inner wildcat

*Each verse/poem is made of single lines from Playmate profiles in Playboy magazine.  Each line is from a different Playmate.  They are not meant to be taken in their original context in the articles.

H. Edgar Hix, like his work, appears here and there, now and then, but generally stays home.  Do a duckduckgo search and you'll find a few pieces, mainly poetry and flash fiction.

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