Saturday, 9 May 2020

JANUARY 9, 1997

thin as a grain of wheat
rarely uprooted from his chair
black cat at his feet
waiting for the next meal
the next dream

traded freedom to his granddaughter
so he wouldn't have to live in a home

eyes red around the rim
voice deep within the throat
bones coated with dust like the painting
of his long since passed wife
hanging on the wall behind him

six foot three he can still
touch the sky
i used to jitterbug he says
and smiles. heart following memory
up the gulf coast
across the panhandle
all the way back to California

when he's upset
sometimes he swears (the gravel
spitting off his thunder)
GIVE ME THE KEYS! i'll drive there my
damn self i will!
alone? she questions, eyes bulging
ALONE!

and i
i believe him
you better hide those keys
tonight


#katyamills
remix 1997

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