After Billy Currington, “Good Directions”
Rind this written man, the yonder
past, an old bell for some right will,
right me, thinking myself thought.
I knew Ford couldn’t run me—disappear
dust, light a country left—but
am I really seeing what I think I see?
The woman of my dreams, back
to me, went past. Don’t know why,
but something stopped me, & thank god.
After Brad Paisley, “I’m Still a Guy”
And you think I see
that thinking. Some
maybe dress. A
painting I’d like.
love makes a man.
Some things I hold,
hand in the ground,
building my hand.
. I try at honey
these days, with all of
these men lining
up to a gun.
After Alan Jackson, “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere”
So am I wintertime, hour by minute like a half-
past somewhere? This morning, a day over,
a year away, I only could pay back a moment.
What would you ask me before I go strong, before
it’s always? I heard you there—haven’t you
seen the beacons between ready & gone?
Kit Armstrong is a lifelong denizen of the American West (Denver, Los Angeles, Boulder, and—someday—San Junipero) whose work has appeared at Hobart, Vagabond City, The Indianapolis Review, BULL: Men’s Fiction, and elsewhere. They are on Twitter and Instagram at @uraniumsweater.