"...On my hot tin roof"

“…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