You Were My Sausage, Biscuits and Gravy By Kevin M. Hibshman

You were like my favorite flea market find.

A faded treasure meant for my hands.

You were the last slice of cold pizza for breakfast at 5:AM in the morning following a night of riotous drinking that may have severed several friendships.

You rescued me like a small child separated from Mom, lost in the supermarket, crying my eyes out while being stared at by laughing, unhelpful customers.

You were like the time I got twelve packs of cigarettes out of the vending machine after only paying for one.

My friend Dawn had a bag in her car I stashed them all in until we got home.

You were New Years Eve 1999 when the bartender gave me my own bottle of good champagne, making the rest of the inebriated crowd jealous and angry.

Remember when I'd been taking your muscle relaxants instead of my blood pressure pills and made it all the way to work with two left shoes on?

I kept wondering why I couldn't seem to wake up until mid-afternoon.

Those were the days!

Kevin M. Hibshman has had poems published in many journals and magazines world wide.In addition, he has edited his poetry zine, Fearless, since 1990 and is the author of sixteen chapbooks including Love Sex Death Dreams (Green Bean Press, 2000) and Incessant Shining (Alternating Current, 2011).

Cease To Destroy from Whiskey City Press.

His current book is Lost Within The Garden Of Heathens also from Whiskey City Press and currently available through Amazon.

https://a.co/d/aIBcNvy