homesick by Brian J. Alvarado

hitched a belated carpool, 

escaping the city yet again,

this time to suck down some fireballs

and drawl my carelessly wistful way 

through a forgettable homecoming,

no longer concerned with losing you

in the foam again, for I missed the

hodgepodge awful in complete, still

waking up inevitably in your bed,

ahead of my only friends left 

to graduate from Xanzibar,

burping up synthetic cinnamon

and smog from a voided core,

registering an unholy jolt behind 

the wrong ear, as it rubbed up 

against an imperfect circle on a

bargain zebra-striped bandana,

and recalling nothing but where

that straggling cowboy killer had

overstayed its earnest welcome, a

premonition of a homesick mourn.

Brian J. Alvarado is a Puerto-Haitian Bronxite with pieces published or forthcoming in Squawk Back, Trouvaille, Alien Buddha, Beliveau Review, Cajun Mutt, and The Quiver Review, among others. He holds a B.A. in Creative Writing from Susquehanna University.