|
UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
|
|
BRUCE STIRLING
Taxi the taxi stops and I crawl in, sit on the sweat-stained seat the driver's fractured accent tossing me a where-to while outside a thousand eyes bump by like dying salmon slapping up a too-shallow stream the window going down the breeze blowing in hard and unforgiving on the chin more fist than friend as the salmon search for the ever elusive just around the corner just another block while I sit on sagging leather the driver asking where-to his impatient eyes drilling holes in my inability to decide drive, I tell him, just drive let the road decide, and we go the salmon souls swallowing our wake as my tiny yellow ship slips into shadow the fish I bought for dinner ripening beside me in the stale summer heat Bruce Stirling's poetry and prose appear in a number of literary journals. View his work at http://gnomonclature.blogspot.com |
|
© 2008 Underground Voices |
|
|