PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I remember candy coated car crashes in every sense of the word.

I remember having trouble sleeping outside in city parks

because the morning dew made things just that much colder.

I tell you this now.
Some days I would drink 40 ounces of malt liquor with my

eyes closed and pretend it was a hot sandwich made with love

in some Santa Fe style kitchen complete with warm fuzzy dish rags hanging on hooks,

adorned with geese wearing scarves, standing on letters that read, "Welcome to our home."

Cut to Sheriffs escorting me outside the city limits to drop me off.

Warning me not to come back.

Walking back, I'd pick up discarded soda caps that read,"Sorry, please try again".

Tinfoil pipes and tinfoil pipe dreams, air-conditioned hotel lobbies

and the smell of restaurants cooking steaks beside the highway

and you're left to wonder in whatever spot you can secure.

You wonder about hot food, warm beds

and why the only time anything seems to

sparkle anymore is in the morning dew.

Raymond Strickland July 5, 2005