Grace Poem by Floyd Crenshaw

you called me
early this evening
to say you were feeling great.

an untangled spine
and a few drinks had you
spinning those stories
you tell so well.

i was happy for you.

i withheld my disappointment
withal within
about this dying economy,
fear of the future,
the diseased american dream
and how in the world
the way this world
still swallows pre-chewed lies.

the way you handled
with grace and tact
my stinking mouth
the paranoia and doubt
rambling rage like a buffalo stampede
with orthopedic shoes.

i fell for you.

answers.
i never had them.
i will never expect them.
your guess, baby, is as good as mine.

your lines
simple and robust
contain possibilities
and strain to calm
your failing man.

this is the first time i felt special.
the first time i felt loved.
i felt at ease.
fell for you
over and over.

i am full of vinegar.
i am full of tomorrow.
yesterday's bile is
in today's toilet.

i intend to find it
amongst the liars, the perverts, the religious, the cruel, the dressed, the masks, the smiles, the impressions, the good and the bad
that leave most
going out for whatever
instead of taking it all on and in
the most proud,
colorful
and attractive
feather
sticking out of my cap
a picture of you
the corners cling to the
inner brim.

i fell for you
over
and over
again.

oh, Grace.