Entry 2, riffing on Lorna Dee
Cervantes’ “Colorado Blvd”
“I wanted to die so I walked / the
streets”
I wanted to die so I walked
to the liquor store and
gave them the slip
of paper I got from work that day.
They needed my ID to cash whatever
so I showed them my DNA—on the table.
The clerk spat on it.
And the hobo had a baby
in the guitar case and opened it when it
needed some food for the night. Second St.
After the liquor store, late one night in the clove
of cottonwood, perhaps I would tell you
the hobo was a lie. That he was an absent guitarist
strumming wildly what he had forgotten most. Hamlet’s
father. Someone’s car rattled with the thump of a sub
in the dirty street, a Cadillac, a big rangy thing
shaking the duplexes and mills and on down into the sewer,
where it hits hardest, they say.
to the liquor store and
gave them the slip
of paper I got from work that day.
They needed my ID to cash whatever
so I showed them my DNA—on the table.
The clerk spat on it.
And the hobo had a baby
in the guitar case and opened it when it
needed some food for the night. Second St.
After the liquor store, late one night in the clove
of cottonwood, perhaps I would tell you
the hobo was a lie. That he was an absent guitarist
strumming wildly what he had forgotten most. Hamlet’s
father. Someone’s car rattled with the thump of a sub
in the dirty street, a Cadillac, a big rangy thing
shaking the duplexes and mills and on down into the sewer,
where it hits hardest, they say.
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