patchouli promises

the subtle scent of patchouli
returns me to languid summer days
reminding me of the ways
the sun shimmered
through my hair.

my bright red chevy (bella)
held pieces of passion
in her brazen cherry paint.
she hugged those curves
the way i held the world.

the sounds of the grateful dead
wafted through camellia-essenced air…

and i found pieces of my soul there.

there in that delicate delirium between
woman
and child
(that beautiful balance between
latent
and wild)

bob marley and phish
were my drugs of preference
(i was high on the essence
and heat of the sun)
as it bounced off bella
and reminded me
(i am still so young).

that ibanez guitar
(so beautiful and blue)
taught my fingers how to feel
and my heart how to hear
-the music in my soul-
was so authentic and clear.

if i could return to those
hazy, lazy
liquid summer days...
i would taste the deliciousness
of my lovely, naive smile.

and i could believe in
the sunshine
for just... a little... while.

Reviews

[The Language of Birds]

Hello Kara,

Great poem!

I love the alliteration of the title, and I can smell it too. What a perfect point of entry.

In fact, this poem is packed with sensory detail. You have fully engaged me in this fantastic piece from beginning to end. You are also able to tread away from an overly sentimental wistfulness for the innocent past. Instead, this poem matches you in your desire (mentioned in your bio) It is as true as your blue Ibanez guitar.

Way to go.

Jim C-D

[Kerri Gates]

"and I found pieces of my soul there."

I love you. You freakin' rock.