Dec 31, 2012

Pretty Days ( 1 minute free verse)

The day was too pretty to argue, stir up grudges,
I thought- looking at the day through playful hands,
smiles, hugs, comforting gestures.
O’ they ride off into the sun, cans, toilet paper,
shining armor saving what is left.
The day was too pretty to be innocent.
I thought, visioning myself into a little mischief.
I should keep the blaze burning, big rigs turning
deep in the dull, discriminated South.
But, what about the poor little black girl
with three pig tails anxious to explore under youth’s cloak.
She’d settle for his small favor. He didn’t have to be
a gentleman. She didn’t have to be a lady.
I wanted to be someone unlike me on this lovely day.
Maybe a drunk old woman, sing to the strum of
a guitar playing, fix myself like a painted doll baby
or be a gambler on the run.
It didn’t matter as long as I was different and you
wasn’t the same.
The day was too pretty to smoke a blunt, hazing in a sea
of depression just to wake up hungry again.
And the fun is gone; the day is over as I sat inhaling
the smoke. Pissed off…
Missing out… missing out… missing us…


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