chugging along the narrow streets between metal barrier and wisps
of weeds along the edge of concrete mystery sedans pass proximally
close and the rush of wind against shirt the rush of your arm against
me we flirt walking toward eventual destination through sleeping hoods
nestled in the hills overlooking the Allegheny and when we get where
we thought we wanted to go the bar is purple and loud so we sneak to
play a fishing game in which you get the quarters and I get us caught
James Croal Jackson (he/him/his) is a Filipino-American poet. He has a chapbook, The Frayed Edge of Memory (Writing Knights Press, 2017), and recent poems in DASH, Sampsonia Way, and Jam & Sand. He edits The Mantle (themantlepoetry.com). He works in film production in Pittsburgh, PA. (jamescroaljackson.com)