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bex box : poetry : this one's for
this one's for the blue girl
at 8:36
on a monday

travis says
he doesn't like my
poetry

i say fuck it,
it's not like i'm trying
to create a masterpiece,
make a million,
provoke the swooning
of mankind,
or change the world
from this particular
peach chair

but buchanan
and the sound of my tires
spinning in the mudholes,
was beautiful, filling--

a tribute to all the times
we've pulled off the road
and danced in rain,
or went walking in it,
splashing through every single mudhole
along the way.

buchanan was 45 minutes
of uninterrupted life,

anger, tension, confusion retreated,
swelled into memories

and goddamn i took those hills
like daisy duke only thought
about taking them,
plopped over the tops,
stared at 100 acres of
uninhabited land

and i think it needs to be told

(if only in a poem
that will never leave my bedroom.)

but like i said
this one's for the blue girl at 8:36
on a monday

and

chin up girl,
one boy doesn't make you.

he just makes
you feel
for a while.