Inside
inside
two voices
one is Southern
the other is mine
Southern says speak, act as if, & play
mine feels radiowaves signal across a haywire field of fucker-uppers
but instead says okay
Southern presses record
mine suggests the gray slab of building has cupped thoughts in an alley
by the Metro where the maple leaves have scattered thunder
mine shows a poem in the backpocket, directs words for Southern
my arm’s a pillow & my foot’s a saint
Southern intimates a question with pursed lips
mine deliberates that the world has blown up and asks finally
about the tape recorder
mine jumps the void, clinging to the window frame
~ By Aldrin Valdez ~
AldrinValdez
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