You & You & You & You
If you were a hat you’d be a fedora, brown and sweat-stained, still good for winter weather and rain’s summer surprises. If you were a feather an ostrich would be minus one. If you were a puzzle you’d look nothing like the picture on the box. No summer sunset. No boy hit by a swing. If you were a household cleaner you would be digestible, taste like red licorice. If you were red licorice you would be saved for special occasions. Twice-a-year everyone would gather around you and smile in thanks. Hand-sewn gloves would be required. After it was over, autumn’s scent would be on everyone’s breath.
Mike James makes his home outside Nashville, Tennessee. He has published in numerous magazines, large and small, throughout the country. His many poetry collections include: Leftover Distances (Luchador), Parades (Alien Buddha), Jumping Drawbridges in Technicolor (Blue Horse), and Crows in the Jukebox (Bottom Dog).
Photo by Hans-Peter Gauster
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