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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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DANIEL ROMO Flying The world is going to end soon, My brother informed me At our family barbecue In my parents’ front yard. Chemtrails! Too many damn people. They’re tryin’ to kill us! Chemtrails man… I pretended to listen. My tousled hair blew In overzealous summer wind, While 17 ladybugs that looked like Speckled tomatoes Rambled along my arm. I was reminded of my 6th birthday party, High fructose corn syrup children Frenzied, Then crashing, Aimlessly wandering my backyard Looking for their mothers. But today I ate too much carne asada. My brother drank too much beer. And a yellow Miata headed our way Then made a u-turn Noticing the sign— Not a through street. Friggin’ conspiracy man… Not a through street Not a complete thought And they flew away, A spotted, ruddy procession of gentility, While the Chemtrails laughed overhead. My brother says, It’s the end... Riding My Schwinn to Wienerschnitzel During My Conference Period I should be grading papers right now, even though I already know the outcome: a steady stream of scarlet scores, fragile, low, like the concern from those whose apathetic hands birthed them. They don’t care; why should I? I was craving chili-cheese fries, a manufactured mountain of grease, gluttony, escape. Ask any poet their definition of escape: stepping outside oneself, AWOL, always coming back to the source of inspiration. Ask any teacher their definition: running outside the campus, away from PTA, SATs, ADHD, never second-guessing or looking back. Part of me wants to sit in the cracked leather chair the bankrupt district has furnished me, scribble obscenities in the form of letter grades, an assembly line of procrastination and consternation. The other part wants to sip soda on the fast food bench, chili-fried legs dangling from my lips like processed past participles, contemplating the consequences if my principals ever see this in print. Daniel Romo teaches high school creative writing, and lives in Long Beach, CA. He has been recently published in Monkeybicycle, The Northville Review, and Verdad. He is an MFA candidate at Antioch University, and thinks gray sky the utmost inspiration. More of his writing can be found at Peyote Soliloquies |
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