Paper Boxes

My rainy day garb
has brought me
up from my down

No money in the bank
red hair when I
need to be blond

Nobody's here but me
and my broken down smile
an excuse to leave not soon enough

I'm trying to be better
bolder and wiser
fighting a coward in warrior's armor

Never enough 'til the rain
starts to fall my joints
start to swell and I sink in

I'm deep into my mood
this funk that pulls me out
into summer and somewhere

Words on the pages
like chocolate in a mug
sweet mother's winter relief

I'll pack my books and
then my thoughts
all in one plain paper box

I'll store the blues away
behind the thunder and clouds
step into my boots and walk

Unfettered by time or family
constraints my eyes start to
open and I am awake

Feel me know the power of a
storm as it rises
discover me in the puddles

Oily reflections and a cab's
passing waves
distinguish my greys from yours

The sun sneaks out to gawk
at my varying fabrics
and my grin pulls away*

The date on this is probably around 1997, 1998 somewhere around Boston. I publish it here not for proof of worth or talent- that is not something I want judged by a piece written a decade ago. I just realized that I wanted to include it because it took me so damn long to come up with a silly little name for this here blog that I felt it only right to give the piece the credit. So voila. And yes- I know "grey" is not the way Americans spell the word but my dad is an anglophile above anglophiles and I like to tip my hat to the folks across the pond when I can. Always have- always will. And don't worry- I have no expectation of this blog becoming my personal poetry slam so keep breathing. I think I have a thing or two to say about a thing or two.