Wednesday, November 7th, 2012


There is a sad sounding song

something Midwestern

on the radio above this booth.

My friend stirs his drink silent

looking into it as if reading

for a future no one can name

I think of how I could sit here

telling him about men I used to know

or the poems I plan to write

But I know that a woman talking about men

from weeks ago is about as bad as a poet

talking about unwritten poems

I sit in a silence equal to his and watch

a woman’s leg burst out from the black

cut of a skirt as she puts on her coat and

the song ends as I order another oatmeal stout,

silently promising myself this is my last one,

this bitter beer as cold and distant as the Midwest.

HoDo, October 15, 2012

Jessica Jorgenson

Artist Date #3/ Grand Challenge


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