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If It’s Monday Morning

Lee Hazlewood

in the morning.

Makes no difference to me.

-

A thousand canoes

stacked on Tuesday

with rabbits and fur

piles

piled high inside

little warm homes

a place to mourn

handsome men.

Someone got away.

Sunflower blues.

I don’t mean nothing at all

when I fall like rocks

across your unmade bed

ready to be held

and warmed

cupped.

Warm beaches

warm lovers

warm hands

the color is flat

old blue.

Laid out like dynamite

two bodies

dulled by sweat

stoned and stoned

across your rug.

Poems about love

and lovers

nothing

empty the canoe

find two rabbits

coiled naked

little fairytales

alive in the heat.

That’s all.

Something to know.

So boring.