Poem

The morning of the crows

In Rwanda, they always open your soda bottles at the table. This proves they are not poisoning you. In Rwanda, long muddy streams the color of my coffee were lined with Primus beer bottles. I didn’t like it. In Rwanda, we had a beer at the Hotel des Milles Collines. Remember? There was a pool. [...]

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Number 22

Seconds between stops, shuffling, coughing, wheezing dependable as a postman with the indignant, retro charm of a mesh cap. I’ll be home soon. Orange like a powerflower on the outside Green velvet pulp inside Hot, liquidy, but livable, like a womb Fifty cents for the ride. Photo ops are free. Public transportation at the cutting [...]

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Poetry Thursday: Orange peel patterns

I’m at the roof door. Sweating hours before. But a chill has touched down. It doesn’t belong. “What are you doing here?” I ask. But the wind is whistling to his own invisible Ipod. No one answers me. But I know. I know what comes when extremely hot weather patterns mix with extremely cold weather [...]

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Poetry Thursday: Turkish Bath

A spa in a barrio. . . where did I think it would be?Black birkas stuffed with women, trapped in sunlight splotches, asleep on the davenports wooden stalls that creaked when I crossed the floor What was I supposed to do? A scarf-tied, brown-toothed baba would become my red-pantied bather getting down to skin, Yes, [...]

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Turkish Bath

A spa in a barrio. . . where did I think it would be? Black birkas stuffed with women, trapped in sunlight splotches, asleep on the davenports wooden stalls that creaked when I crossed the floor What was I supposed to do? A scarf-tied, brown-toothed baba would become my red-pantied bather getting down to skin, [...]

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