A Slow Night In Downtown Wabash

A Slow Night In Downtown Wabash short poem

Photo by cfaobam

An old woman slings loose the accordion
from her shoulder, feels her ribs expand
draws a mental connection with the sag
of her breasts and, broke, starts off home

unseasonably warm for February
a pack of dogs have run of Canal Street
check the corners a confused council
too much scent where there should be snow

the taverns have run out of popcorn
so the drunks sit picking husks from their molars
tasting blood and beer burps wondering
if the traffic cops have sat down to donuts

a sign near Factory and Fisher proclaims
World’s Cleanest Parking Lot
and a stovepipe man dressed dusty blue
tests the hype, sharp shadow arrayed around him

the payphone that abuts the Durn Good Market
rings once then stops every night at 11:17 PM
checking his wrist the thin man hurries
the dogs piss on the sign then lope into dark

a backfire or a gunshot sounds near Treaty Creek
a race, maybe: the start of something or the end
the old woman stops on the Huntington Bridge
whips her accordion over the rail

all the lights are off inside the Durn Good
but the city bought Sodium lamps burn orange outside
the thin man stands hand poised next to the phone
it’s 10:52 and he has to work at 4:00 AM tomorrow

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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