Straw Hat

The “Little House on the Prairie” I am

regrets not whittling himself

into a straw hat wearing figurine

who runs out of his mind

to find a kind of silence,

and a way of talking about it,

without coming off like a half realized

lesson about what to do

when one can’t seem to feel it,

or remember that it happened yesterday

at the bus stop.

I don’t know,

I guess I’d like to think that

there’s a way to stop

that monster I half realize I am

who’s screwing with the engine out on the wing,

me doing whatever I can to bring me down,

and enjoy it if possible.

But I also like thinking about

how there’s no way to stop that monster,

and that he can look just like me,

and doesn’t have to be so diabolical

as to try to take me down

while I’m out to lunch.

The monster in me

can buy me a flower and tell me it loves me,

kiss my ear

and run its hands through the back of my hair.

It can smell like limes and vanilla

with tones of coconut.

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