Saturday, April 29, 2017

day ONE HUNDRED



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?


--Jason Baldinger

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