dear solitudinarian,
apparently, if squatting down beside Miss Mary’s vehicle, and attired just so…
on a thursday afternoon outside “Carolina Thrift Store”,
a creepy ol’ elderly man will ask you if you need money,
display a fist full of cash,
and raise a hooking brow.
beware, oh fair children of the mid-day.
signed,
grossed-out by “THE LOOK”
and
turning
to vote for the power of observation in a knitted stare.
Dear Rebecca & Elizabeth,
I could say that I came out of this music smoking,
But there was no black symbol,
And I’m still feedin’ the fire.
I could say that I saw my favorite ol’ time sisters,
dancin’ and strummin’ to beautiful rules.
But their river-y faces are always lamenting,
And I’m further away from their lives of service,
than I’ve every been before.
Who remembers them?
Who remembers you?
I could say that I remember She holding up the porch,
But I would be lying.
I don’t have these lovers,
They are long moving histories for sweeping…
I don’t need more people,
more women either,
because I found the final fire,
That makes me sing.
Signed,
Rocking Back & Forth
