A Poet in Blue Jeans
I’m sitting on a broken-in bed … on a rainy afternoon
It’s lonely, grey, and gusty
Cardinals are shivering, and grass is hibernating
I’m listening to Townes Van Zandt sing Poncho and Lefty
His cigarette stands erect … in the neck of his guitar
His cowboy hat is tall and crumpled … covering dark hair
His jawline is sharp … like a switchblade
His neck is long
His tired shoulders sway
His fingers conduct a symphony
His eyes locked in a mystical world … of lyrics, chords, and meter
A poet in blue jeans.
Heroin is thumbing for a ride.
