The town was filled with people who make mistakes.
I spend my days there, chasing the sun
with my beat up Mazda. The sky blushes
orange as I come and go like water
colored dreams – passing
the barn that’s city hall, police station
and courthouse all in one, wood rotting away
like promises. It probably looked like a dream
years ago.
I used to think I didn’t belong there,
with the working hands,
the tired faces, the bare feet,
the shamed smiles, and the sun’s beaten
red skin of children who grow numb
long before they grow tall.
Soon my skin blushed blue, too, and eyes drooped
proud. Soles grew tough and brown. Dreams
fade away like the baby blue paint on the houses -
sun chipped and beaten with a stern hand.
I was beginning to think that I was one of them.
First published in Among the Mariposas (Mouthfeel Press, 2010)
Amazing Katie,
You have eyes that see, and words that feel, the soul of a town that stuggles to survive, time. Love your poem…see you at the readings.
Richard