I once was a cowboy king
and the American desert was
my playground.
My kingdom was my mind
and then it was free
to wander in the grass.
I smoked false cigarettes
made of sugar and chased
invisible horses.
The waves washed over my feet
and they sank into
the wisdom of the sand.
I built for myself a meager
castle with a moat
so I could stand above it.
The fluorescent corridors were
my stomping-grounds
and the servants stared.
No door could hold me
for I bore the royal hall pass
on my belt loop,
right beside my Crayola revolver.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
I once was a cowboy king
and the American desert was
my playground.
My kingdom was my mind
and then it was free
to wander in the grass.
I smoked false cigarettes
made of sugar and chased
invisible horses.
The waves washed over my feet
and they sank into
the wisdom of the sand.
I built for myself a meager
castle with a moat
so I could stand above it.
The fluorescent corridors were
my stomping-grounds
and the servants stared.
No door could hold me
for I bore the royal hall pass
on my belt loop,
right beside my Crayola revolver.
An impressionistic piece about childhood
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