By James Diaz

I asked you the name of this town

we were slowly passing through
like storm clouds that are holding out
and the earth below waiting
expectantly, open
mouthed, greedy-
for all that rain that won’t come
 
didn’t you see the sign
you asked,
no
 
then why don’t we name it together
on the count of three both our words
will be this place 
one, two, three
broken / pine
 
that’s as lovely 
as anything will ever get

you whisper

with your face in the window
your skin leaves the faintest imprint
a laminated Polaroid
and for a moment
I almost think this is enough
to right all that is wrong
in this world, the feeling passes
but I sometimes wonder
if it might be
so simple, so hard.
Bio: James Diaz is the author of This Someone I Call Stranger (Indolent Books, 2018). He is founding Editor of the literary arts & music mag Anti-Heroin Chic. His work has appeared most recently in Occulum and Philosophical Idiot. He lives in upstate NY and occasionally tweets @diaz_james.

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