Repeating the Explanation
Heads and pills, color of matchbook streak,
sound of lawmaker end-results to the Red
Moon restaurant, a clinic for the well-wishing
quarters.
Here comes my grandmother, the one
who raised my father. She has bought
stone-carved bookends from some artist,
the small-town, local kind, and means
to describe the process of the purchase.
I three-quarter hear it, mumble to the bookends.
A friend comes in, sits down and my
grandmother begins retelling the process,
and she will tell it again when my wife arrives.
My drive spends back on itself.
The blank, the palling milk, and the cycle of mirth
in this everlastingTroy
is to become method.
Ray Succre currently lives on the southern Oregon coast with his wife and baby son. He has been published in Aesthetica, Small Spiral Notebook, and Coconut, as well as in numerous others across as many countries. He tries hard. For inquiry, publication history, and information, visit him online: http://raysuccre.blogspot.com