1954, The Wild One’s on the loose,
stoking adolescent scooter trash and young poets.
Marlon Brando is Johnny, and The Rebels know
their leader’s cool, like in the first scene
at the Squaresville cycle race,
Johnny just strolls across the track,
sending riders sliding into bales of hay.
Or later, after they take over the town,
Johnny just sits there in Bleeker’s Café,
taking it all in through his shades, deciding
they’ll wait for Crazy, whose leg got broke
when the geezer in the Model-T ran him over.
Hold on—here comes trouble—it’s The Beetles
riding down Main Street with Lee Marvin in the lead.
Brando’s lips give Johnny a soft whisper you can’t hear
because Marvin’s Chino is loud, badass,
screaming at Johnny, calling him out,
eyeballing his erection—No!—the trophy
Mouse stole when the Rebels crashed the cycle race.
“Come on, Johnny,” Chino coaxes.
“Let’s drag for beers, for old time’s sake.”
He’s stealing the scene, wheeling his ’47 Knuckle
to a starting line boot-heeled in the dust.
Johnny’s got what it takes, but he’s saddled
with approach-avoidance, his rumble a quiet purr,
straddling his bike like a leather wishbone,
feminine male versus masculine male.
Everybody’s screaming, the shopkeepers stare wide-eyed
in the din, even fair Mary Murphy, who doesn’t know
Johnny’s crush on her will blow his mind,
but that’s later, for now it’s Chino and Johnny
in the dust storm they’re revving up,
tires spitting, burning—drag, drag, drag for beers.
Johnny blasts off, but Chino stays,
playing for laughs—vroom-vroom,
popping wheelies to The Beetles’ delight.
Chino’s wasted, dizzy, hauled off by the law, moaning
“The shame of it all, the shame of it all.”
Johnny can’t hear him, he’s so far away.
He’s gone, man, like he’s real gone.
To support his golf habit, Nils Nelson worked menial jobs before and after grad school, Cal State Fresno, so long ago the CW degree had just two letters: M.A. An award-winning golf writer/editor for many golf magazines, his poetry has shown up in Ironwood, Crazyhorse, Partisan Review, Seneca Review, Salt Hill and other usual suspects. Nils is finishing a full-length manuscript in Tucson, where he burns through sunscreen.