My favorite color is brown.
I am neither a fast car nor a firecracker
Perhaps these things were once mine also
And I forgot them
Left them like a toddler leave his blanket on the stairs
I have a habit
Of repeating things over and over
Some times I can’t deal with moving on
I keep bluesing “I, I, I,” over and over
Like the spindle on a record that skips
Yes
Yes
And inside
I know all these poems are written
And yes, yes and inside
I’m sure all my work has been done.
But today
I am swiftly dancing with
The swish swishing in the dryer
At the helm of the kitchen
Frying okra near golden
In a pan for four people
Never learning to cook for one
Yet I believe that we should all cry a lot
Or often
And not be brave all this time
And tell people we love
Every day
And we should pray to Jehovah
And be happy over little things
Treat being like a precious gift
And be good
Just be good to one another
And scream
Let it rip down the back alley of your throat
Get it out
Make it fast and fancy
Let it go.
Shayla Lawson 2004
Copyright © 2006 Shayla Lawson.
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