broken, twisted, and bare____

Annex Cafe, Fort Greene Brooklyn, December 19th, 2014
He was extremely focused on his writing: longhand in a spiral bound notebook. I didn’t even want to interrupt him to ask if I could feed my cord behind his chair. Why do I find all those words so intriguing? Because they are handwritten? For all I know it could be gibberish. Usually it’s not. Nevin writes in cafes to be connected. So do I. We did just that. “Do you mind if they’re melancholy?” “I like melancholy.” Here are two:

Broken, twisted, and bare
The trees were laughing at them,
The Christmas shoppers and weary
souls in between
Another year passed
claims of the world’s end, of goals accomplished,
but merely memories soon to fade

Soft white of the bed,
a din of traffic below,
it was early and she had nowhere to go,
shots of hunger and urges to pee
she laid supine waiting
for something but she didn’t know what.

Read a peom by Patricia H.

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