last night
i dreamed of willie nelson
we were on the paint peeled veranda
of a dilapidated southern plantation
talking the morning away
as country people are given to do
drinking fresh squeezed
orange juice
over the bones of kentucky colonels
a wild turkey bottle
crying fowl
beneath our rocking chairs
i stood
pushing through the screen door
in my white sun dress
telling him i had designs on frying him
some eggs and sausage
scratch biscuits n’ pepper gravy
grease being the best hangover cure
he responded with an
a-men and a tip of his hat
as i took a rolling pin
over flour sprinkled dough
the notes began to float into the kitchen
i heard him picking the strings of his guitar
singing
i’m crazy
crazy for thinkin’
that my love
could hold you
One reply on “for thinking that my love could hold you”
write on. terrific shit, voice, poem.