Rain and rainbows and wind blows a coffee stone in the morning.
Old pants with patches and blanket stitches call from the bottom of the pile.
A day as young as baby skin when the pants wore holes in the knees.
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About Me
- Dale Hunt
- He's become comfortable in that ol' civil war jacket. What would compliment that mess of hair? A sage cigarette, a bottle in his hand and a book in his pocket. A hobo at heart a drunk by night and a rambling pain. Tired and old before his time. Studying the greats Bukowski, Tom Waits William S. Burroughs and Hunter S. Thompson, Kerouac and John Steinbeck. Drinking Brandy and Cockspur rum from the bottle. Hiding down South for the winter months running from the cold and consequence.
2 comments:
So The Invermere Valley is at the end of the rainbow. Sweet. Jd
Bishop
Plenty of lessons I never learned. The one about how to get rich - for instance. It went unlearned. Plenty of lessons, between now and then, I have forgotten. How to treat people. I don’t always do it with respect. My companions don’t always help out. But your friends are your friends. My friend is whiskey, beer and the ridge high cedar growing beside the creek. And three dogs who can’t get along.
It ain’t enough the mountains are tall. The old car is stuck in the Columbia. I got you out just fine. The mud was wade deep and stunk like shit. We ignored my bad driving. You held my neck like never before. The old dog barked at us. The river tossed light - without it we would have been lost.
Everything is new now. The keys of the computer never stick.
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