Sunday, April 26, 2020

Last of Annie by Ron A. Kalman

It’s been years
since I last saw Annie
in that basement bar
her sun–bronzed hair
cropped short
when she cried
“You scum!”
and stormed out.
I sat stunned
felt the whole bar
staring so I
sipped my beer dry
then walked up
some concrete stairs.
But Annie was gone
and I looked out
onto a night-lit park
where a guitarist
sat strumming

Bastard. I hate
street musicians.







Ron A. Kalman’s poems and translations have appeared in The Exquisite Corpse Annual, The Main Street Rag, The Somerville Times, Muddy River Poetry Review, Beacon Street Review and other publications. He lives in Brookline, Massachusetts.

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