The Criminal



In my back pocket I’ve got a picture

Of that time where happiness was the border

Surrounding this image of life

We hang, and there it is in plain sight:

A perfect rendition of connecting the dots.

Hitching home from prison

I was only escaping from past to present.

You always said I looked best

Engulfed in the hue of bright orange-

I guess the sun and me have something

In common after all, but I’m missing light.

The only imprints we have the power,

Or even the audacity to leave on this earth

Are our fossilized footprints,

Letting the Earth know how far we got

Before being captured and patted down.

They can’t take away my back pocket.

Even when walking on the trails

Graveled by shame, love is only

Real when it shrivels,

Much like our hands in water,

Our bodies become saturated.

In my front pocket I got a ball of lint,

Showing there are worse things

Than being empty,

But they aren’t gonna take that,

And you aren’t either, even though

In my shirt pocket I had a heartbeat once,

And you took that a while ago, didn’t you?

The secret is this:

I got a stash of cash buried under our oak tree

And soon it will be in my pockets,

And I will buy me a new life

And I will buy me a frame for that picture.

My pockets could be filled with gold,

But I will always be

A criminal on the run

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed