Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

for thinking that my love could hold you

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

i’m crazy
crazy for thinkin’
that my love
could hold you

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