Ode to Oklahoma, a cross country trip and to Chaz for whom poetry can be fact
It is known
that poets wear black
opposing the call–
be individualistic
let’s conform
in uniform
we meet expectations
in ebony, onyx or jet
so I wear red
and navy, spring green,
fushia, orange or
maroon
a dress, heels
or a bare shoulder
shudder the thought
of royal blue
20 miles over
the Texas line
truck stops have gas
showers, wifi, attire
The back wall is flush
with hats against sun
cowboy hats
without cows to tend
and a poet considers
weave, brim and fit
the default color, all
straw flavored tan
and joyously makes
the obvious choice
a poet, this time,
chooses black