At The Grocery Store

A little devil peeks out
from my shirt pocket
At the grocery store
When the clerk says my card
Has been declined

The devil jumps out
And I try my best
To grasp at it
To put it away with my fears
and my doubts
Back where they belong;
Hidden

But the damned beast is too fast
And my hands are ribbons
Moving without warning or care
Just letting everything by
With a frightening caress

I snatch the card and leave
I hate the man outside
Helping the old woman with her bags.
I hate the children
Playing in the race car cart
With their ignorant glee.

My devil runs to them and screams
“You ignorant bastards!
Can’t you see i’m in pain?”
And I grab at him but
It’s too late now
The children know.

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I like the early morning cold
That comes in a lonely fall
When the other creatures
Are stuck
In a no-man’s dreamland.
It is not bitter
Nor biting
Nor blinding.
It is soft.

It is gentle in the way
That a friend will
Put their hand on
Your shoulder,
When you have forgotten
Your good qualities
Or cast them into doubt.

I have not written a poem in almost three years. I’m in Panama City Beach right now, but it’s winter and there’s not much to do. And for whatever reason an idea struck me and I wrote something. My long period of writer’s block is finally over! Granted, this poem sucks, and it’s a VERY rough draft, but hey. It’s something.

Whisp

I went to the beach in the wintertime

When it was cool and white

And the locals come out

Without fear of strangers

Stealing long loved spots

With meaning that passerby

Will never know.

I could not point out to you

Those spots with purpose.

Havens have no markers

Save for the whisp of a

Thought

That flashes by when

You realize this is familiar.