Monday, February 21, 2011

A Face From Home

There's a knock at the door.
It's an old school friend.
A face from home,
laden with giant pack and sketchbook in hand.
Smiles and beer pour.
A couch is made crashable.
The weary ocean crosser rests.
In the morning we conspire.
Then attack. The city.
By wooden subway train.
To a barbers straight-edged dance,
then back down the line,
to eat steak sandwiches with garbage men,
and climb cranes with falcons.
Gary Coleman briefly rears his head,
as British cannon fodder floats above.
We launch paper airplanes at the sun
and send Gorillas over the fence.
A 50ft naked woman briefly distracts us,
and by dusk marching band guards are closing in.
We flee to the other side of town.
Into night by taxi,
to rainy cobbled streets
and half empty bars,
where years of tales are told and unfold.
His stay ends at sunrise,
when he heads out again.
And then, like an unfinished movie,
the city holds one less.
One less face from home.

above photo by A. Wicklund
above photo by A. Wicklund

Currently Listening To:
Song: Swang On 'Em feat. Lupe Fiasco (listen)
Artist: Bun B (myspace)

Currently Reading:
When I Grow Up
by Juliana Hatfield


Anonymous said...

i love this jimmy! i couldn´t have summarized it any better. much love fella. good times.

Amy Hood said...

loved the photos!