23rd street
fires, cars ablazin’,
driver gettin’ his laundry
and the story at the taco
truck is building with each
half known fact/each lie
says, “anybody in there?”
(the whole car is up in flames
now, smoke billowing 3 stories
and adjacent buildings fire
alarms squealing)
someone earlier had seen him
exit stage right, (said
might he maybe have struck
a pole--no damage to the hood tho)
so we repeat it (that the driver escaped)
figuring he probably did looking
to call for help (?)
and now everyone with
their phones out is free
to click and save misfortune--
least nobody died--fire trucks
ambulance hose water things
all out--a wonder of the first world,
23rd street 12pm Crystal city
lunch break tacos
stop.
More from Issue #2
Untitled by Tom Pescatore
Away from me you’ll fly, like this title, like my life, into the void, I have seen it happen, watch it happen now as snow sluggish, marches on white city from white…
Dialogue by Mark J. Mitchell
—There is something you’ve forgotten, my friend. —I know. There was a book. —Yes. Small. Gold-bound. —That’s the one. My father’s first, one he found on some shelf in a sad ruined…
Beaten Blues by Polly Buckingham
Don't call me, I don't want to cry no more. The fan's moaning 'cause the screws are loose, and the floor's wet with rain. Why'd you leave me, Baby? The fan's loose,…
Baseball Weather by Mark J. Mitchell
The sky’s scrubbed clean as a five-sided dish. Birds have returned from the south and hold loud confabs in the trees. Moist air is cool and soft as newly oiled cowhide. It’s…