Tim with the yello scooter - a poem

Take the good with the bad.
10/28/09
By: Will Jackson

Ol' Tim walked with a limp,
said he got if from breaking horses
back in his day.

swearing it was Sinclairs fault, tim said,
son of a bitch didn't tighten my saddle right,
damned horse nearly dragged me a mile.

Tim loved talking about those things.
He lived in the old Hollywood hotel
about three buildings down from mine.

The boys from the Hollywood hotel would
walk all around my parking lot,
with their cups of drink and looks of defeat.

Tim had a gnarly scar beneath his left eye,
real deep, looked like it hurt.
How'd you get that one, I asked,

Oh man, this big boy named Tim too
caught me messing around with his sister,
and well, he beat the life out of me.

He hobbled over to my desk and leaned in
pulling his eyelid down exposing the red, and said,
Tim was a big sucker, real athletic, a delinquent marine.

He beat me down and then told me to get up, he said,
and I did, and then I laid one right on his jaw.
Tim's eyes were wide, I always get mine, he said.

Gotta get it in where you can, I said.
Yea, but you know the crazy thing, Tim said,
that very next morning my income check came it.

Aint that something, I said,
you gotta take the good with the bad I guess,
said Tim, and then he hobbled right out into the sun.

as he was leaving he said, aint been to jail yet,
hope I never have to go either.
Good with the bad, I thought, and waved him out the door.