Four Newish Poems

The Shortest Day of the Year

On the shortest

day of the yearimg_202032

the sun shone

down through the

clouds and I woke

up with the

curtains closed

thinking to never

drink again as

long as I live

through the

shortest day

of the year.

With Chapped Lips

With chapped lips

he smilesimg_21152-detail1

knee deep and

ankle strapped

in snow

pulling in with

a handcuffed

steering wheel

burning oil and

leaking coolant

in a blue Toyota

truck uncle Sunday

in December.


With a gold chain

wrapped around his

calculator watch in

a black long-sleeved

t-shirt and his glasses

off nibbling on hisimg_208531

pointer finger next

to a used kleenex and

bookmark sitting

across from me

in the public

library’s reading

room he chomps

his gum and sports

a mustache and

wedding band in

1980s blue jeans

and black leather

boots trying

not to be so

goddamn bald

at 2pm on Friday.

Southwest Reading Room img_205122

The green plastic trashcan

with the black plastic bag

betrays the stained wooden

vigas and the parquet floors

of old age and character.


~ by garcialoca on February 28, 2009.

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