Buddy Plays the Blood
Alan Jackson
Poetry girl, sloppy sweater
She got up at the folk talent night. knew her stuff, long and lean young pulsing poet in faded jeans baggy orange sweater chuck taylor sneakers. first piece traced spats with the glass bully-girl had sixty pounds more black eye bested. next poem was about remembering small northern lake starlit glories above all telling stories, personalities if you knew the science. accessed an Audoban album. peeper frog orchestra attending. fireflies twirling aloft. her audience transfixed hy sultry voice, confident somewhat hopeful and making for travels in heart and head… poetry doing what it can. you understand.
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