Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

the parthenon

i had a little place down off sixth street
all swollen wood and tin

you could smell the river moving from there
but you couldn’t see it

unless you made your way
through the dead people
walking toward
clark’s embalming school
over on elm

the century had just turned on us
and we were due a war

he swaggered in on a black lace evening

tall as a yankee
but no less a cowboy for it

american mythology in his hat and spurs

i offered a bourbon bottle and glass
with one hand placed upon hip

“Where you from, stranger?”


“Ohio, Georgia, or Greece?”

simultaneous smiles emerged

because we both knew the answer


where his boots would be resting that night

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