words

i drove through the city in search of a drink
and i found it and i moved on, deeper still
until every corner owned a liquor store
and rows of black eyes stared me down
from the sidewalks and front yards,
but i listen to the blues, brother,
i know the taste of poverty,
i know the smell your dreams release
when they curl up and die,
i know the heat brings madness
and the cold a deep dark hallway of depression,
i know, i know, so i turned up the radio
and rolled down the window and rode on
like a broken down john wayne with no bravado,
drinking my drink and breathing the wind,
watching sunsets burst in lavender and vanilla,
yellow and blue like a bruise against the sky.

-S.C. Martinez