Brindle and Butterscotch

Like a warped signal, a fading blue light,

a knife fight you never got to finish, a

breed of dog no one has seen; I collapse

like a lung, stripped of my paint, sat too

long in the sun, a list of comparisons, a

tragedy on a manuscript, ripped from the

mind of a great writer, doused in wine

and high on song; the walk I was on was

stolid yet beautiful, the leaves gently

left home to the ground, like me and my

ever growing list, and without notice, a

beauty busted me out of slumber, a man

and a dog stood fatly in an alley, and I

chuckled as his hound took aim, my

companion and I continued our journey,

I laughed and suggested we work as one;

minds apart like a stranger traveling, a

turkey dinner in June, a star crossed love

asleep on the couch, madness in a jar,

and no one got the memo; we are enemies.

even though we all live and die the same,

our lives are solitary, a unit of measurement

you never quite grasped, a line in a book

that took you aback, and as my list dwindles,

my life does too; I will always remember

when I tried my hardest, even if a guarded

pathway stood in my sight; the fishing

pole tugs with the slightest tickle, and I want

to be ready to catch the fish, even if my

pockets are empty and my pipe sits still;

life is full of color and music – sit and listen.

 

Click here if you are interested in reading my chapbooks on Amazon.

~ by Shawn M. Young on October 18, 2016.