I’m sitting outside smoking a joint
I’m sitting outside smoking a joint, right
It is an early Wednesday morning in
Early September in late
St. Louis, right
The sun is at my back, two degrees
Pass an old silver maple tree
The last of the three mulberry threes
Is growing in the alley
I got coffee, cigarettes
Weed and beer to celebrate
Poetry, right
It was September
Of 1968 that I wrote my first poem.
41 years hence I’m still on point
People say of me that I can not
Keep a job, but here’s proof of my
Fortitude. If I seem proud
Of myself it’s because I am
It is an occasion of celebrating me
A poet to my poetry.
poem by David E. Patton
Added by Poetry Lover
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