I was sitting in the kitchen,
wearing a beard.
Shirtless with a farmer’s tan
I gained in rural North Carolina.
I was washing clothes and trying
to play guitar.
I was learning guitar, actually.
Playing a few chords on a cheap
instrument, I picked up in a pawn shop.
I was unwashed after a morning’s
work, and my hair was flattened
from wearing a hat.
I kept thinking I was a failure and
that practice makes perfect.