Stranger Radio

I sit here rolling in judgements of
haircuts and double-chins and those
legs crossed beneathe so much perfect
mascara.

"Don't bring me down."

What was it about
writing on sugar
that I once thought?

It is
such forgetting that will
have me falling
from the sugar sack
into animals, ghosts
and hell.

The radio is saying, "Fuck"
and "26 dollars in my hand."

You could hear a pen drop
beneath my table
from the distance
where there is the unexpected
"Thank you."


by jerry gordon
3.15.5 KIX cafe