My Own Private Iowa

In my memory, the carpet was orange but it may be a memory from a faded photo of that living room. Or the carpet may have degraded from brown from the years of college kids that tramped in and out of this 2-bedroom garden level apartment, with their disposable furnishings and found cats.

But the memory is of me on the floor smoking, most likely drinking a beer, and there is music. I face the armchair containing Kathi with freshly died red hair, also smoking, with Venus digging her claws into flesh, and Glenn Danzig looking on from the poster on the wall. Heavy metal posters, original artwork, and late nights of conversations that ran the gamut…

We were writers after all… Read more…

Soaked in Crimson

Hair dyeing college days
Little bit of money

Spent on a box of
Self-expression

Cigarette exciting
Someone would notice

They might kiss
My ashtray mouth

Late night
Literary discussions

Exposed to the world
Smoke in my lungs

Orange or brown carpet
Basement apartments

Hot summer nights
Steaming river fish

12-pack on the dock
Light reflected water

Young new hope
Life determined

Unfettered and free of
Small-minded destiny

 

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, March 2018