When Trouble came to visit
he limped into the open mic
with bourbon on his breath,
sweat in his shirt, a broken cane.
He took his seat, made himself
at home, planted long feet.
The room delivered prairie prophecies.
Quiet. White. No one yelled.
A woman took him home,
spread apricot on toast
to make him stay. He did.
And she unzipped that name.
2014
I delivered holy water.
Melted some demons
A. Wa
Y
That ye did.
Seems that a fella with sweat in his shirt and limping on a cane would probably need a drink from time to time. ; ) just sayin!