Life and Times

The stale taste of artificial light blends with the
smoke seeping from slack jawed incense
whose voyage from South Carolina has made them fill this room with
cartons of Newports for fourty-two dollars and
Pulled pork platters on 64th n’ Kings highway and
that time Scooter shot the couch with a double pump
BOW! because
one day of mud boggin’ jus’dont satisfy the southern style.

It’s better to remember the nouns, than verbs
The Markus and Beaches, than drinking and sitting.

Much better to visit those moments for a bit
than live in them; a slogan for my mistress
Myrtle Beach.

And though it’s my choosing to stray from the sands
And become a statistic in this ash gasping city,
Tis’ pity to think I’d only seen gracious days, forgetting
Pauly got his ass beat on a street named Destiny, remember

JP got robbed,
Our TV was stolen,
Gun regulations don’t mean a damn thing.
I called it art to
break Yasmina’s heart, while
Sean was in the bathroom hanging by a dogs collar.

So now
I sit here,
trying to write
a less abstract vision of memories, with
a bad taste in my mouth from this artificial light
thinking cheap incense will somehow jog my memory.

Life and Times

Tom Krantz

Brooklyn, United States

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