Durham, etc. Blues [pt. 4] (the cold earth is my mentor)
4
Cold corn dogs &
strawberry milk. Trading
nicknames, little boo, with the
5th graders in the cafeteria.
Puffing cigarettes
in the rain, an orange spark
in gunmetal grey.
The delivery guys crack dirty jokes outside their truck
Mexicans murmur indecipherably at the bus stop.
The air, musty, heavy, but
my nose waltzes with the
aroma of parking lot Douglas firs.
In the odor echoes,
Veinte poemas de amor y una cancion desesperado
a book of poetry & that Christmas scarf
snagged on a nail & we are all
victims of unraveling.
