Leather Hats On My Floor Unedited and Unashamed.
I’m kind of drunk, so this is a raw, unedited mix of words that came to me off and on through the night. Maybe someday it will be a few different poems. But as for now, this is what it became, so this is what I present to you.
I have all these little leather hats. The first one with tiny red painted letters,
somewhere in the back of a red car,
driven by a taxista that tells me I have pretty eyes.
I have all these little leather hats,
keychains but small enough to snuggly fit my rats
singing, “What can a cowboy do? What can a cowboy do?”
As the tide is pulled by the moon.
it’s white flowers inches off the ground,
a blanket in a pool of dew on top of the highest mountain.
It’s crackling sparks dancing away from the fire
in harmony with the whisper of a brook,
It’s a peach sky behind two trees that are almost one.
It’s red fingers and pink hands and a forgiveness I denied myself.
It’s the bare beginnings of things I have never let go,
from the tin rattles to the lost love notes of a 9 year old
that were scolded by a woman who needed to let something go.
It’s complaints and dwellings when I had all in front of my face.
It’s acceptance and hanging on to a friend
who tried killing me but never asked questions.
It’s being a fake and not feeling ashamed.
It’s thoughts spilled in poetry with no pen or paper,
coming and going to never return
but serving their purpose on the back porch.
It’s music in the background I never understood.
It’s bike rides in a tennis court,
I felt like a fish on the verge of being canned
and turned into something that breaks down
in the stomachs of the fortunate.
It’s the end of a book I love and and am proud of
no matter the states of mind and the shame felt to fill the pages.
It’s the piles and piles of organized papers
that still have no place to sleep.