sky big and cloudless
I count the days of sobriety
looking down the track
all I see are sixes
rolling on down the line
paper hat stuffed in back pocket
patterned like salt and pepper
sporting paper suit and
folding paper planes
riding atop the dream train
kansas city’s but a night
or two away
its lights and sounds
pulsating in my veins
january two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they sat around the fire pit
on a saturday
downing amber ale
and getting high on sticky weed
midsummer stories ensued
as evening turned into night
and off in the distance
a freight train chugged along the river
slightly shaking the ground
and slowly picking up speed
past the corn sweetener plant
bottles were raised
and toasts were made
to hobos and train hopping
followed by wild ass guesses
as to the whereabouts
of their long lost buddy
who so many years ago
chose the obscure lifestyle
of a punk rock anarchist
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I jumped off a boxcar
in downtown Kansas City
made my way
to 18th and Vine
where Satchel Paige
pitched a complete game
at Blues Stadium
With just enough dough
for two quarts of Colt 45
and Cracker Jack
I basked in the sun
keeping score and
losing my voice cheering
on the Monarchs
Down to my last nickel
I walk toward the whistle
cold and sober
tired and hungry
needing to steal a ride
and a good night’s sleep
back to Chicago
august two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 