v2
saltines
the night's a besenji's bark
aching to voice the impossible-
certainty of the stranger's entrance.
stealth in numbers moves through
the air, hijacks an amazon package
maybe right onto the sofa next to you
you can't know. certainty is, at best, fifty percent.
so you have to live as if you have it
even though you might not
like a song you weren't taught
as a child, the whole congregation sings
so you sing. off key, try to match
words with a melody
you feel you should
recognise but it trips
you up you struggle along
its convoluted path -like the river
path to gramma's car
at 3 a.m or the long ride
on US92 to ybor city
to pick up gramps at the station
on his shift end . somewhere along
the way there were hot donuts
in winter haven,gramps waving from
the caboose of the seaboard coastline
a fishing pond and cane poles, seventh avenue
in ybor and somehow at the end
of a counter in the silver ring cafe there was my daddy
and gramps sharing a plate
of raw oysters . gramps
bent foward with a slimy wet tongue
looking thing on a saltine cracker.
i squirmed backward on the leather
seat stool, spun it round, grabbed
the cafe con leche gramma said i was old enough to have
spit out eeeee wwwwww it looks lke a fat worm!
just put a little hot sauce on it
gramps laughed you won't
feel a thing. daddy laughed, the man behind
the counter laughed, the man
making the cuban laughed, the men at other
tables laughed. i laughed. gramma looked sour
said drink your coffee girl. i inhaled deeply, sipped.
grabbed a two pack of saltines from the metal caddy
on the booth. they felt like communion wafers
stale and dry in my mouth.
v1
the night's a besenji's bark
aching to voice the impossible-
certainty of the stranger's entrance.
stealth in numbers moves through
the air, hijacks an amazon package
maybe right onto the sofa next to you
you can't know. certainty is, at best, fifty percent.
so you have to live as if you have it
even though you might not
like a song you weren't taught
as a child, the whole congregation sings
so you sing. off key, try to match
words with a melody
you feel you should
recognise but it trips
you up you struggle along
its convoluted path -convoluted
as the path that time
gramma woke you at 3 a.m to
take US92 to ybor city
to pick up gramps at the station
on his shift end . somewhere along
the way there were hot donuts
in winter haven,gramps waving from
the caboose of the seaboard coastline
a fishing pond and cane poles, the silver ring cafe
in ybor and somehow there was my daddy
and gramps sharing a plate
of raw oysters .gramps
bent foward with a slimy wet tounge
looking thing on a saltine cracker.
i squirmed backward on the leather
seat stool, spun it round, grabbed
the cafe con leche gramma said i was old enough to have
said eeeee wwwwww it looks lke a fat worm!
just put a little hot sauce on it
gramps said you won't
feel a thing. daddy laughed, the man behind
the counter laughed, the man
making the cuban laughed, the men at other
tables laughed. i laughed. gramma looked sour
said drink your coffee girl. i inhaled deeply, sipped.
grabbed a two pack of saltines from the metal caddy
on the booth. ate them like communion wafers
stale and dry in my mouth.
