10-24-1993, Tom, Trent’s Dad

He sleeps all over the bed.
Diagonally.
Has music in his head, all the time.
Master craftsman.
Floor mechanic.

Sad, lonely day.
Trent didn’t even
want to get out of
bed to see you
this morning.
He said,
“Dad’s going to Austin.
He won’t let me go.”

We miss you
when you’re gone.

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Country Song or Blues or…..

I Can’t Sleep Again
or
My Husband is in Austin Blues
or
10 Pounds of Bat Guano in a 5 Pound Bag

My stomach:
A twisted knot of kimchee, jalapeno sauerkraut.
or
A playground for hyperactive butterflies.

My heart:
A black hole of isolation and despair.
or
A pincushion for railroad spikes.

My mind:
A bowl of mushy over-ripe banana pudding.
or
A blackened Cajun red snapper.

My spirit:
“MOM! I’m tired of going around in circles!”
“Shut up, or I’ll nail your other shoe to the floor.”
or
A dank, moldering cellar.

My world:
The bottom of a compost heap, crawling with worms and insects.
or
A package of crackers the kids used for a hockey puck.