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The Devil and Russell Stalnaker
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Memories Russell and me, and the devil made three;
we raised hell that summer.
Miami moons, hot deviled crabs,
and waiters that looked like King Alfonso.
Russell was from north of the line,
and ripe for the games of
southern girls.
We took Russell’s Harley downtown
for a night of disco balls and
smoke machines.
I wore my stylish platforms, and
Russell sported a brand new pair
of Gucci loafers.
I never asked how he afforded them,
afraid if he told me, he’d have to kill me.
We took the town apart that night,
woke up somewhere down the beach
at five in the morning.
Hot summer nights in Florida will take
you where you want to go.
Some call it beach fire.
All I know is Russell was my kind of guy,
that night.
We finished the summer with a handful
of promises we knew would never be
fulfilled, but with an excitement
that would linger for a while.
Russell Stalnaker was one helluva man.
I went on back to school, and Russell
headed north.
I waved goodbye as he headed
toward the highway wearing a raincoat
that looked like a hefty bag and his
brand new Guccis.
Russell wrote me later that he thought
it all had to do with summer infatuation.
Truth is, it was all about southern girls,
and hospitality.
Summer heat is a nice way to say it.
I was just thankful there would be
the winter semester to chill and take up
the slack until he came back in July.
