EXCAVATIONS IN A BANQUET ROOM
When asked was I ever in jail in Splunge MS
I found a bushel of gratitude at the irrelavancy
To the common good and never drew a breath
Before inviting balloon thoughts worth of tales
Into the salad course along with falling crumbs
Of wondering looks down that table soon fading
In the light of feedlot dawns, cottonfield blisters
Tales of seven day trips on mule-wagon cotton
Chuckles in entree serving cheap matinees
Drooping down regret holding communion
Over-filled glasses seeping away opinion
Of all the blue lost watches
And the found gold links.
MEMORIES CAN FREE US IF WE EXCHANGE THEM FREELY
WE MUST EXCHANGE THEM FOR OUR ASSUMPTIONS
WE MUST TRADE THEM FOR OUR DELUSIONS
WE MUST TRADE THEM FOR OUR REGRETS
WE MUST TRADE THEM WITH NO VALUE ADDED TAX
WE MUST TRADE THEM WITH NO EXPECTATION OF RETURN
WE MUST TRADE THEM WITHOUT A CHANGEPURSE
WE MUST TRADE THEM IN THE MARKETPLACE WITHOUT GATES
MEMORIES CAN FREE US WHEN WE FREE OTHERS.
granbee 