Sunday, October 25, 2009

Those Days In Texas

Hi everyone -- hope your weekend is going well! Here's an older poem (well, about a year old anyway) Back tomorrow with another post.

Those Days In Texas

When we got old,
we were going to live
on an island. I would
still have great legs,
and he would know
a thousand more blues
songs. We’d gossip, our
favorite past-time since
childhood, and he’d turn
a blind eye to my faults
which would be easy
since the doctors said
he’d be completely blind
by then anyway. When
we talked about this,
we lived next door to
each other in shitty one
bedroom apartments, walls
so thin you could hear
the wind even when it
wasn’t blowing that hard.
He barely made it into his
thirties and died in another
cramped apartment, this one
in Philadelphia, and when I
think about those days
in Texas, poor as we were,
having nothing but our youth,
I’m pretty sure that was the island.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"I don't really think in terms of obstacles. My biggest obstacle is always myself."
Steve Earle

Cocktail Hour
Cocktail question: Favorite retro cocktail?

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Sunday!


Anonymous said...

No man is an island.--John Donne

The Skipper said...

No phone, no lights no motor cars,
Not a single luxury,
Like Robinson Crusoe,
As primitive as can be

Charles Gramlich said...

I really like how the end brings it around. that last line really makes this poem. Good stuff.

Anonymous said...


the walking man said...

Good thing about thin walls is with a minimum effort hands can be held through them.