Wednesday, February 5, 2020

drinking with a friend in the front seat of a car. By John Grochalski


the beer cans
came from the heaven

of blue plastic bags
resting at our feet

and the vodka flowed
like mystic rivers

from a clear plastic jug

as we sat outside a strip mall taco bell
the hunger in our bellies finally satiated

but the hunger in our minds?

not so much.




 John Grochalski is the author of the poetry collections, The Noose Doesn’t Get Any Looser After You Punch Out (Six Gallery Press 2008), Glass City (Low Ghost Press, 2010), In The Year of Everything Dying (Camel Saloon, 2012), Starting with the Last Name Grochalski (Coleridge Street Books, 2014), and The Philosopher’s Ship (Alien Buddha Press, 2018). He is also the author of the novels, The Librarian (Six Gallery Press 2013), and Wine Clerk (Six Gallery Press 2016).  Grochalski currently lives in Brooklyn, New York, where the garbage can smell like roses if you wish on it hard enough.       

No comments:

Post a Comment

Beside the Unfinished Glass By Paul Moore

The half-empty glass, red stain clinging, a smear of laughter on the rim. And beside it, your ring. Gold, still warm, maybe, from your finge...