Kastel from Kansas

Kastel from Kansas

Crushed velvet top hat.
Errol Flynn mustache.
Thin ballerina slippers

with motions to match.
He sips cup after tiny cup
of free water. He sits for hours, listless.

One morning he proffers
three suspect dollars
for a sandwich. A first.

A tumbleweed kid,
I hear a regular say.
A Rainbow Brother

blown in from Kansas
with the wind,
out again.

Pale, fine-boned,
rolling wherever
the breeze shifts him.

The side of his Volvo,
rusted teal,
says BE HAPPY.

I wonder if he is.

 

 

All rights reserved Graham Murtaugh. 2013.

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