Cole Mileaf Poet Free verse

Just Ask John Hurt

Today I awoke carelessly
jostling my sheets about my bed
without a reason to check the time.
I check my email to find a familiar message;
another job rejection.
This makes an even fifty.
The cannons of black confetti my parents built explode.
I get some on my face 
but I fail to flinch.
My father walks into the room offering support.
Before I can thank him
it quickly morphs into ridicule
followed by hindsight. 
His blood pressure spikes,
angry tears roll down his eyes,
and he adjourns to his happy place;
the bed.
I wipe the confetti off my face.
and seek love for guidance,
she supports me endlessly
and I gain no solace.
I seek the guidance of history
and watch Mississippi John Hurt pick away at his guitar.
As long as John Hurt,
with his calloused,
leather like,
farm hands
played 'You Got to Walk that Lonesome Valley'
with a smile on his face,
me,
and everyone like me
will be okay.

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