Redemption of a Grain of Salt

September 28, 2008 by Clair Button.

Poetry by Dennis Beam, of Richland, Oregon, in celebration of the 2008 Great Salt Lick Contest

Redemption of a Grain of Salt

Whoa! What happened? I guess I must have died!

Reincarnated as a grain of salt in this block of sodium chloride.

I’m stacked on the floor in this dingy room at the local Feed & Seed store

What a price to pay for all my misdeeds, I did my life before.

I was a fisherman ya see, and it wasn’t easy.  I chewed and cussed and smoked.

I told a lot of lies and drank a lot and then one day I croaked.

But all and all I was pretty good, and I thought I lived a pretty clean life.

Why, it was even rumored that I once was even nice to my wife.

I always figured just a rumor of such a thing, would surely get me a free pass.

But when I made up to the pearly gate, God shut and locked it fast.

“I’ve been watching you and your sinful past, and I’m afraid on my list you are last.

In fact,” he said, as he gave me the boot, “you were a real ass.”

Well, I guess I’m proof that all God’s laws are really pretty strict.

And that’s why I’m stuck inside this solid saline brick.

It’s lookin’ like my number’s up and my luck is about to change,

I’m getting loaded in a pick-up truck and headin’ for the range.

Now I’m being heaved aboard a horse and put into a saddle bag.

We’re climbing high above the Snake River, ten miles southwest of the sag.

I can’t believe this. I know this guy. Look at that big smile on his face.

Then he reached into the bag and dumped me in my place.

I watched him as he rode away, that big ole smiling galoot.

If only I had my fingers about me, I’d be flippin’ him the salute.

And now I can only await my fate, a solo block of salt

And, to think I did boy scouts with that guy. Thanks a lot there, Walt.

Ya know I’ve been here before. I hunted chukars here, high above the valley floor.

There’s horses that live year round and cows and deer galore.

It’s lookin’ grim and it won’t be long ’til I’m attached to some animal’s tongue,

And rifled through its digestive system, and fired out the bung.

If only I could move, I might have a chance, to stay away from a lick

and avoid being reincarnated again, as a dried up pile of shit.

But alas, a miracle has occurred. Redemption has come and I might make it yet.

Someone’s brought me here to Baker City, thanks to a guy named Whit.

Find more about the annual Great Salt Lick contest at www.saltlickcity.com, Whit Deschner’s home page.

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