brand new bluebird song
there was this poem I used to keep
in my back pocket
kind of like bukowski’s bluebird
only not as hopeful and
not as sad
but plenty sorrowful in its own right
one day somebody asked to borrow it
and I gave it away without even thinking
I gave it away
like it was a knee jerk reaction
like when shutting the door behind you
instantaneously realizing
you just locked yourself out
the poem lives on in somebody
else’s life now
leaving me to explore the city streets
sandals on feet and opera glasses in hand
capturing glimpses of brand new blues
june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
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