Clarinet Dreams
There’s a J-Bird in my hand
Feels just like a gun
So comfortable
I might kill someone
Feathers come to dust
I walk sideways
Down the hall
Monkey brown
And baby *****green
Nothing sane about me
Take your time
Before you speak
I’m on my way to jail
Blue Jays and colored grass
Is all I have left
Speckled eggs
And rabbit holes
Will have to hold you
Till the band comes home
A carnival dream
And a canary hat
My banjo on my knee
Look under the bed
And read the book
It tells the story
Of a man who’s dead
Never loved a single thing
But his death and clarinet dreams.
Copyright © Stephen Kilmer | Year Posted 2013
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