​Cliff Dwellers
(by Dan Masterson)

(after George Bellows's painting, 1913)
​
I'd give the heavens to Betsy
If, heavens to Betsy, Betsy
Would say she'd be mine.

I don't know if we'll ever meet
But we're four stories up on opposite sides
Of the very same street,
Clothes-pinning our laundry
On parallel lines, and she's driving
Me crazy as she pulls hers toward mine
That is twisting and turning,
Flipping and flopping as Betsy's
Politely drips dry.

My mother keeps wondering why I've
Gotten so clean, hanging out T-shirts
And skivvies and old pairs of jeans,
Singing and whistling to beat the band,
'stead of hanging out with my buddies
Where they all stand
Catcalling me up from down on the street.

I wish I could tell her 'bout sweet
Betsy Lou, but my washdays be over
If ever she knew that I
Scrub all my clothing, even stuff
That's brand clean, in hopes of getting
Closer to my wash-a-day dream.

Why, I'd even bring Betsy our washtub
And wringer, Oxydol, Rinso, and Duz
Cuz I've got to believe
That someday a breeze will entangle
Two of our sun-splashed sleeves
And we'll have to join forces
To give them a heave
As they're twisting and turning,
Flipping and flopping, and somehow
Or other I'll get my reprieve.

Then I'll lean out the window
And finally come clean.
I'll tell her exactly
What fresh laundry can mean.
And I'll offer to fold it
Without taking a glance
​
At her lacey white dainties
That know how to dance on a clothesline
When given the breeze of a chance.
Why I'd give the heavens to Betsy,
If heavens to Betsy, Betsy
Would say she'd be mine. 

(from The Sewanee Review, Vol. 112, No. 2, Spring, 2004)

George Bellows, Cliff Dwellers, 1913, Los Angeles County Museum of Art