Open Container

Hey guys, started writing poems again -- yay! Since finishing You Are The Camera, I took a tiny little birthday break from writing which seems to have helped the sanity a lot.

Open Container

I could have thrown them myself, but I saved
them for you brats, Charlie says of the beer
bottles that litter the bed of his truck. Grandpa
could have been selfish, but no. My sister Beth
and I throw them on the highway as he drinks
and drives. There’s no law against drinking beer
on the road so long as you ain’t drunk, he says
and he never seems to be. Just a bit, well very.
He left us nothing but his guns when he died. He’d
sold everything else in the trailer. Years later,
Beth and I pick beads out of a cage at a restaurant,
each color meaning something different. She gets
blue, wisdom, and throws it back. I don’t want
that shit, she says, and we laugh. She doesn’t bother
picking another. I know. Once the bottles were gone,
they were gone, shattered across miles of roads, Charlie’s
dead soldiers in pieces where they glittered waiting
to puncture those unlucky enough to travel the same path.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Any time you see a turtle on top of a fence post, you know he had some help." Alex Haley

Cocktail Hour
Drinking movie suggestion: The Lives Of Others

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Saturday! Am busily trying to catch up on all correspondence -- please bear with me as I untangle the mess that is my inbox. And working on all individual thank you notes for birthday gifts and wishes, but alas for now, I just say THANK YOU to all of you! You guys are the very best.