In a Big Truck
By Karen Douglas
They said be quiet
or bad men will find us.
We swallowed our tongues,
they found us.
They said behave
or more bad men
would take us away.
They said we’d be safe.
Safe don’t feel good.
You seen my brother?
You seen my mother?
You see me?
If you know where I am,
tell me. I’ll be good.
The Art of Waiting
By Karen Douglas
begins with a calendar
an appointment a clock
the moment when
a vehicle vacates its space
a woman fills out forms
sticks labels to paper
leads me to read
out–of–date magazines
test done I wait for news
negative is normal
notice the changing
light of another day
Nostalgia
By Thomas Luhrmann
Well–defined pockets of chaos
litter an otherwise uncluttered landscape
and as it recedes the mindless roar of the alien system
is beginning to resemble
an ultraviolet sea fan far more than a silver broach,
a toothpick or some unrepentant swan
Like the collision of two extraordinarily different worlds
that have little in common but a passion for secrecy
we stand before each other naked and unashamed
and for the umpteenth time
the simplicity of the calliope on the ice cream van
takes us back to a more innocent age
when hamburgers frying on a charcoal grill
would partially restore the borderline psychotics
and conditions favoring the algae’s sudden efflorescence
remained a stupefying mystery
Jury Duty
By Thomas Luhrmann
Clumps of tall purplish grass are being “harvested”
for want of a better word
the floodlights of the miniature golf course
are the primary source of light pollution here
while the thunder of monkeys scampering over this vast tin roof
echoes throughout the cavernous gloom
Let’s shoot flaming arrows in the general direction of the pond
in whose mirror–like surface the moon does not appear
Let’s update the aircraft painted on the runways
before they are obliterated the way that music turns to dust
For the ice people graze content beneath the myrtle,
the bench people graze content beneath the stars
and the Ficus tree that partially illuminates the vending machine
offers limited immunity from this purifying wind