“…On my hot tin roof”



There’s a cat on my hot tin roof

Chershirelike

Ginger marked with slashes of white

And blue eyed

Such blue as the deep endless sky

And he just sits there

Sits there and preens

Even in the midday sun

When the metal is red hot

Caustic to the touch

He sits there

Sits there and preens



There’s a boy on my hot tin roof

A red lipped loverboy

Cherry scented poetboy 

With nail marks and teeth indentations

Covering sweat sliver skin

That gleams against the polished shimmer

Of sterling

He just sits there, steam radiating from freckled pours

And smiles

Even in the midday sun

When the heat pounds down relentlessly

He smiles



There’s a dream on my hot tin roof

Cracked open by a layman’s jackhammer

It’s raw and murderously halved in two

It screams silently for someone to mold the 

Shattered pieces back together

Little pieces of detritus

Confiscated in liberty and the pursuit of happiness

Not knowing that the only way to pursue happiness

Was to give into it



There’s a time when on my hot tin roof

I laid all my plans bare

Sizzling, salvaging what I couldn’t

To trek back into myself 

Speeding red through the roadmap of my life

Trying to find the beginning in effort

To prove the worth of the destination 



There’s a cat on my hot tin roof

Ginger slashes with marks of white

And blue eyed

Such blue as the deep endless sky

And he blinks and 

Twitches his long ivory whiskers

Once

Twice

And then 

He’s 

Gone