Poem: Same Coffee as it Ever Was

Truck stop coffee in a styrofoam cup
Idling on a burner late into the evening
Has a caffeinated timeless quality to it
Much like the elderly lady at the register
Who watches wearily the wandering aisles
Of road dusted bodies pouring black coffee
Into white cups that cost a dollar and change
No matter where in the country you are

Poem: Empty Streets for Empty Souls

Empty streets feel lonely
Even in the yellow lights
Of ever burning street lamps
Casting pale shadows
On late evening wanders
Meandering cracked paths
Leading to locked doors
Shuttered windows dark
No safe harbor in the night

Short Story: Interlude to a Departure

“The fire escape is rusty,” Henry said.

“It always had been since we started sitting out here at age thirteen,” Jess responded.

“Five years on, other things have changed. The rising sun is threatening to take you. You’ll go, I’ll never see you again.”

“I won’t forget you.”

“Is what they always say.”

Poem: Church Point

On the riverfront down at church point
There’s music rising up from the river
Where the gathered congregants
Drink shitty beer and talk of Marx
Or whose going to do what
With all their big plans soaring
Towards an uncaring god

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