I love the laughter in my barbecued mind; faint echoes of Cherry Sprites

pierce a fragile silence. They skip down the pathway to my papier-mâché heart.

They found a home inside me. We trade love for shelter.

Do you hear the music? Hear it? I can pick up radio stations just

by opening up my inner ears. Listen, “Well, he talked all night about the suicide and how it

kicked him in the head when he was twenty-five …” Think I’m pretty? Do you? Do you

respect me? Will you ever? I’m not a convict or a felon. You look at me as if I am.

You think I’m crazy, don’t you? Well, get this. I do community service because I

truly want to help others any way I can. I’m not forced by any court to do this.

It’s my way of giving something back to all the little people

who have helped to make me who I am today. Oh my, here we are already.

That was fast. Anyway, this is my exit, Hollywood and Vine.

You may come up to my place for a while ... if you wish. Sip some wine.

I don’t bite. Well, I do but I won't. If you’re really good and treat me right,

I might even let you spend the night. Oh, you hear that? Listen. Hear it?

“Mister Sandman, sing me a tune ... ”

05/29/2011

Author's Note: Poetry Contest entry for June 4th.
Ava Blu: Moderator - I am not smart enough
to link the photograph contestants are asked
to examine and write upon.
It can be located on the Forum page,
under poetry contest.

Posted on 05/30/2011
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