Me, in colors

– Crafted from captions found in a CCC worker’s picture album. A lost story of a lost love.

They woke me up for this one-

Bright Eyes, the self-made man,

Gig the Barber, the Oregon lady killer-

 

to take a picture of me, in colors,

and replace the ones of you

in my black paged picture book;

 

I haven’t taken it out yet,

you smilin at me from under

the tree, hearts beside our names.

 

They were playin ping pong

on that Sunday in front of my-

or rather our – tent

 

in the 105 degree in the shade

day with no shade,

just before breakfast.

 

Oh those hungry wolves,

tryin to cool off-

No, trying to get inside the icebox,

 

to ward off the heat

before a day of building roads,

before they snap a picture of me, in colors.

 

🏶

I took your picture out,

Rosie,

from the placeholder

in my album.

I can’t erase the caption,

your name in white ink

next to two hearts

stuck through an arrow.

I wish I could,

Rose,

but ink is so god-damned

permanent, like it’s

remindin me how

we’re like pencil.

I don’t know if that makes sense but,

girl,

I wish I’d used a pencil

‘cause I can’t erase

you from my life.

I keep seein him:

boots but no saddle

Smoky the boycow,

the country lady killer.

He sure killed us, anyways.

🏶

He came back around today,

Smoky the camp cowboy.

“Nice road, eh?”

 

His dog in tow,

kickin up to dust the road

we worked so hard to smooth,

 

the boys and me.

Blondie, our mascot,

ran up to kick him out,

 

chased his dog and him

out of our tent-yard,

our road all dust and mud

 

behind his heels. But it snowed

the next day, anyways.

And what a snow storm it was.

 

 

🏶

He still comes around our camp,

Rose,

Smoky and his dog,

but I hear he’s leavin you,

goin out to town.

Rosie,

I just thought you

ought to know.

These hungry wolves-

On the hunt for pretty faces,

not for love.

Don’t bother writing back,

girl,

we’re changin camp

soon anyways, somewhere

in the boonies.

Besides, I changed the picture,

the one where

yours was before.

It’s of me and Blondie now,

in colors,

in the park we built

beside the trees.

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