Jim Trainer


In Jim Trainer, National Poetry Month, poem, Poetry, Writing on April 11, 2015 at 10:48 pm

“I’m going for a beer.” I told her.
But I don’t drink. When I got to
the bougie store I kept walking.
It began to rain. I took a right at
3rd, took 3rd to where it ends at
the tracks. Took the tracks behind
the condoes, crossed over Lamar.
I came back up 5th, re-crossed
Lamar. There was a squatter punk
sitting there playing “Cold Water”.
I passed the clubs, the alley,
turned right on 8th. I climbed the
fire escape and got in. She stood
in the kitchen in her painter’s shorts
with a brush in her teeth staring at
a very blank canvas. “You too?” I
asked her but I wasn’t really asking.

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