it’s a new year.
a wet rain fly hangs
over your shower rod.
look over three stacks of unread books.
out your window, rain falls
through steam ascending from
the open mouth of your complex’s hot tub.
ripples jump around the puddle
on the caving pool cover
like the dots on listen to wikipedia
after another gazan hospital bombing.
water drips
from a rudolph nose on your neighbor’s altima,
from the lip of a pot of dead bell peppers,
along the rust marks on the community barbecue.
above the trees,
the sky is a blank sheet of paper
staring back at you.
Tag: creative writing
morning routine
you lock the door at least you’re pretty sure you check and the door is indeed locked you pat your pockets to count your keys your phone your wallet but did you lock the door you go back and check and it’s locked you walk to the car and tap your pockets again you can’t remember locking the door you think about object permance as you reassure yourself the door is locked by turning the knob and pushing it three times you make it to the car and use your key to start it lay your phone and wallet in the empty space by the gearshift you tap all three as you pull out of your driveway then again as you turn out of the apartment complex to drive to work you’re pretty sure you locked the door
a calm shadow
theater marquee an early ben gibbard haircut black thick-rimmed glasses a scar with a delicate history under layers of concealer and foundation shirt with an obscure band’s logo an unbuttoned flannel red and white a heart with a brisk pace cuffs just below their elbows gnarled dandelion stem between their fingers denim jeans blue as summer sky manufactured rips on their knees authentic wear behind their ankles adidas the nice ones green and gold a bouncy toe within a calm shadow
M. Espinosa 