He wants a woman in a tank top and cut-offs,
legs slick with tangerine and coconut.

He wants her to make eggs when it rains—sunny-side up, 
splashed with Tabasco.

Saturdays, she's barefoot by the woodshed,
watermelon sweating on a tray, 
while he splits maple.


Sundays after church, she's on the porch, 
Bloody Mary in her hand, 
cigar smoke on her lips.

But weeknights 
he tends his salamanders. 
For Caterina, two ounces of ham.
Lorraine, the maraschino.

Then four fingers under
 
his waistband,

he dozes on the sofa
until the next day wakes him.

(Yesterday, 02:40 AM)Naish Wrote:  He wants a woman in a tank top and cut-offs,
legs slick with tangerine and coconut.

He wants her to make eggs when it rains—sunny-side up, 
splashed with Tabasco.

Saturdays, she's barefoot by the woodshed,
watermelon sweating on a tray, 
while he splits maple.


Sundays after church, she's on the porch, 
Bloody Mary in her hand, 
cigar smoke on her lips.

But weeknights 
he tends his salamanders. 
For Caterina, two ounces of ham.
Lorraine, the maraschino.

Then four fingers under
 
his waistband,

he dozes on the sofa
until the next day wakes him.

This is pretty tight. The first two stanzas are great hooks and establish this sense of lecherous indulgence and primal urge. Good sound (tank top, cut offs, slick, tangerine, coconut; splash/Tabasco). "make eggs when it rains" is a memorable phrase that feels evocative and specific to this character's perspective. 

I don't understand what's going on with the salamanders. I can't tell if it's sweet or something else. Don't know what the four fingers in the waistband means. Apologies if I am ignorant; to me this all reads as so much seemingly coded obscurity. 

The last two lines don't do much for me, it feels like a flat way to end the poem. Which is a shame because we started so hot! I guess as the poem goes on I am missing a sense of coherence. At first there is, for me, a recognizable rope to hold onto in terms of accumulated sense, if not of explicit meaning then at least of a tangible vibe. Toward the end though, it feels like specific things are being gestured at that it would be important to understand. But I don't understand, so I feel a bit shut out from the poem's world.

I love all the individual details tho - the ham, the maraschino. watermelon, splits maple. church, porch, bloody Mary, cigar - great catalog of nouns in this poem.

Smooth sound throughout and I just noticed more of the internal acoustics in the final couplet, but I still think it's too motivated by an impulse to seek that smoothness at the expense of what could be a more impactful rhetorical gesture or striking image.

Read any Koch or Hicock lately?

(Yesterday, 02:40 AM)Naish Wrote:  He wants a woman in a tank top and cut-offs,
legs slick with tangerine and coconut.  Sets the tone of edibles, with a restrained near rhyme  in coconut from cut-offs.

He wants her to make eggs when it rains—sunny-side up,  Oh, she's a chicken?  No.
splashed with Tabasco.

Saturdays, she's barefoot by the woodshed,
watermelon sweating on a tray,  suggestions of bustiness
while he splits maple.  Suggestive, but it's a woodshed, after all.  "Splits maple" is sweet


Sundays after church, she's on the porch, 
Bloody Mary in her hand, 
cigar smoke on her lips.  The picture doesn't quite jell here - smoke flat on lips, as if painted?  You can do better.

But weeknights 
he tends his salamanders. 
For Caterina, two ounces of ham.  These are his pets, whom he cares for.  The only real females in his life...
Lorraine, the maraschino.

Then four fingers under
   That is, four fingers of whiskey in a glass... or subtracted from the bottle
his waistband,  the cliche is "under his belt," but he's wearing suspenders, right?

he dozes on the sofa
until the next day wakes him.

(I think the codes here (which say "L SEP" in a tiny dashed box)  are Word™ codes  having to do with white space.  Check how the board is presenting what you pasted  into it, to prevent this.)

In mild to moderate critique, this is a good description of the lonely man's day where the only things he really does are splitting some maple-wood, feeding his pet salamanders (caught in the bayou) then knocking back four fingers of bourbon and off to sleep.  The visions of his dream girl run on weekly loop.

I did not get the whole thing on first read - substituting "waistband" for "belt" is cute but confusing,  Same with smoke on her lips.  I get the Al Capp woman smoking a ceegar, and "on" instead of puffing from the lips because this is a static fantasy image, but... maybe "round" her lips?  Wreaths?

I might not have figured out the pet salamanders, had I not worked with a guy who kept a pet newt (yes, that was its name, DON'T SAY IT).   I think I'm right, but @matsu didn't see it and I may be wrong.  If I'm not, it's fun and a little touching.  Should it be clearer?  I'm gonna say no.

A fun read.

Ah, fingers of whiskey, e.g.

Thanks for the assist, Duke

Yeah this is kinda what I mean by cryptic crossword poetics; I don't see why the speaker does not just use the idiom "under his belt." I don't gain anything by calling it "waistband" other than to make the line harder to parse.

(Yesterday, 02:40 AM)Naish Wrote:  He wants a woman in a tank top and cut-offs,
legs slick with tangerine and coconut.

He wants her to make eggs when it rains—sunny-side up, 
splashed with Tabasco.

Saturdays, she's barefoot by the woodshed,
watermelon sweating on a tray, 
while he splits maple.


Sundays after church, she's on the porch, 
Bloody Mary in her hand, 
cigar smoke on her lips.

But weeknights 
he tends his salamanders. 
For Caterina, two ounces of ham.
Lorraine, the maraschino.

Then four fingers under
 
his waistband,

he dozes on the sofa
until the next day wakes him.

I think this is a perfect poem. Unironically. I wouldn't change a thing.
Hamsters would've been so so. Salamanders really take you there. I keep coming back to 'But weeknights'...utterly brilliant. Even the names. Drawn from life in some form, because you couldn't make this up.