Birds accompany Jack Johnson
Performing his morning lullaby
As his figurative banana pancakes become real
I chew to the rhythm of his 9 AM voice
I breathe to the rhythm of his acoustic guitar
I am air
And if the Santa Annas were in Philly
They would let me float with them through each hour,
Tossing me in front of cafes and shops and parks and people
Before picking me up again to drift
My mind untangles as my curls knot in the grasp of the wind
Thoughts escape me and leave a watercolor streak in the sky
Until I am empty of everything except
June air and French food and eventually,
Sleep
I doze off to the rhythm of his 11 PM voice
I dream to the rhythm of his acoustic guitar
I love how you start this poem and it immediately is peaceful and relaxed in tone, like waking up. I also like the imagery of your hair and the food and the feeling of life in France. A favorite part is also the end, with dozing off and dreaming. I like how you spaced those lines. To end and start the poem with Jack Johnson was a nicely creative choice.
ReplyDelete