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

NOVEMBER 22 1997

playing crazy eights listening to music
talking trash fighting getting high
twentysomethings in the late 1900s
spilling drinks spilling consciousness
on the dance floors of YBOR CITY

a blackout drinker in those days i
would lose my credit card and eventually
my wallet my shoes and my keys
my sanity. early hours of the morning
nothing but my clothes and my high on
and a couple phone numbers of friends
in my head.

Tampa, Florida. 1997

narrow dirt roads for legs
two moons for eyes she
was once that kid on a
milk carton

did not want to be found

twelve years later watching x
files smoking weed helps

the pain she
cares for her grandfather
and her son

they're both handfuls

grandfather drinks and smokes
like he's half his age
boy cries and throws tantrums like
he's half his and he's
ten

she loves them without
conditions

i want to be around people
who give me energy
she shouts (competing with the
swamp cooler) not
take it

thick gravel roads for legs
half moons for eyes she
hasn't changed



#katyamills
remix'97