the lasso and the hula hoop | Poem

the lasso and the hula hoop don't call it bitter
cold scaring muscles
into knots call it biting cold
the nipping kind that stimulates
a brisk movin'on circulation needed
now breath in thru the nose not out cowboy
whining about her when he's done gone a bull
snorting fakery throat scratching pity me
love is not that come to the party
poor lonesome rhyming words
horse prancing to the beat
hula hoop swaying with the breeze
waves cleansing the shore
shores
wars
years
tears
come sit here under this tree by the creek hear jake strum'
and, "Dreams," he sings, "sometimes, do come true."

- Vera Jackson

jake's fire   /   Moongate
 
 
 
 

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