Poetry

Independent Feet

Bring your own beer
A field
A horizon to die for
Locals, my kin
Wander about

A small boy child
runs by me
His shoe hits my knee
I feel the traction from the
bottom of his shoe
Uneven and rubbery,
He keeps a goin’

I sit and watch a girl who
never left town buy drugs
She is daring in her bright red
lipstick out here in the sticks
and it suits her well
and she is beyond this and that
but I can’t help but look at her and think
Oh no, not me
I could be just like her
sneakily swallowing a paracute of
powdery bliss
powdery paranoia
powdery headache

But it’s been years now and I’m
different, better

The fireworks blast and fire off above
and all around us
A little boy with no shoes runs by
I look at his face to see if I recognize him
but of course I do not

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