Sometimes I see you
straight as you ever were,
teased and sprayed Seventies high.
King James in one arm,
purse padlocked to the other.
You say my birth name in a voice
this side of reluctance;
ask if I remember to pray,
keeping in mind I might die
before I wake.
Disappointment plowed
a furrow in your Midwest brow
that ran between us like a dry iron.
I was a run in your Sunday hose,
but polyester never wrinkles.
tk/April 2015
R.A.D. delivers with the perfect touch of humor...
R.A.D. delivers with the perfect touch of humor...
