Poem for James Baldwin
Reading Baldwin
in a well-lit bar
of a chain Italian joint
because I'm hungover
because shit service is everything
because your words are beautiful
because humans never learned how to be
beautiful
because hope is too much
or because
The woman in her sixties
leans over leans in
touches my arm
asks
How's the chicken parmesan?
leans over leans in
touches my arm
asks
How's the chicken parmesan?
--Jason Baldinger
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