Wildcatter – by Gerry Fabian


I pull the car
into this Oklahoma bar
in the middle of somewhere
off Route 40.
I like the way Oklahoma
rolls off the lips
when spoken slowly.
That’s it.

Right now,
I crave a cold bottled beer,
medium-rare steak
and whatever song
is playing on the jukebox.
That’s it.

Halfway through the steak
and one last gulp of the beer,
you slide across the red vinyl
booth seat.
I hear your legs squeak
to a stop.
I know that sound too well.
That’s it.

‘I’m a wildcatter’, you say
with a tense, tempting smile.
Twenty years ago,
I would have gambled on this.
Now, the blood drippings of the steak
and another cold beer hold more interest.
‘Ain’t no drilling happening here!’
I don’t look up.
That’s it.





R. Gerry Fabian is a retired English instructor.  He has been publishing poetry since 1972 in various magazines, his web page is here, and he edits Raw Dog Press. His novel Memphis Masquerade and poetry book Parallels are available at Smashwords.