One (Wo)man’s Trash

Back in the days just after dial-up internet access ended, I opened my email to a series of nonsensical emails AKA spam from God knows where. They drove me crazy. I deleted them but still, they kept coming. Finally, I did what any sensible poet would do.  I read them and then made snippets of them into poetry. Without realizing it I had stumbled onto the world of found poetry.

Fast forward almost two decades and now I’m getting strange texts, almost like wrong numbers, and what do I do? I make poetry out of them, of course.


Idle

 

Thanks, baby girl, for the videos you sent. They made me laugh. Lord knows I need that. Right now, I’m watching old movies. The older the better. Anything to get away from my thoughts this morning. I’m laying in bed, covers up to my chin. It’s been five days since our sister left this world. She’s gone, my mind plays over and over again. She closed her eyes on this earth. I like to imagine she opened them in heaven.

Yesterday, here in Florida, it was too warm.  Today it’s freezing. A cold front moved in, winter is back. My thoughts are many but mostly our little sister fills my mind. So I turn to another old movie and remember when we were kids. I keep hearing music in the back of my mind. Sappy songs grandmama played on those weird thick records. All those voices of people long gone but they made her happy.  And you too.

What can I do to wipe the sorrow from my mind but think on those old days. I tell myself, It’ll be alright. Everything’ll be alright at some point. Remember, baby girl, it’s ok to keep playing your music. Those videos you make, I can see they make you happy. They make me happy too.


Curious to see more of my writing?  Visit me – Brenda Joyce Patterson – on Facebook, Twitter, and my website.

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