She tells me she wants to be a baker, that it’s been her dream since she was young. I taste the cakes she’s prepared and I’ll admit – she is good. Her dream is to open a shop and delight the city’s sweet-seekers. I taste my new acquaintance’s sugary confection and imagine a life withContinue reading “Imagining a Life with Her”
the mirror behind the bottles behind the bar offer a view of your girl’s face as she endures your embrace and keeps an eye on me, waiting for a time when he will die of exhaustion, or shame, or by her hand and we can be together toss your hair, dance for me care notContinue reading “Last Call’s Final, Parting Gut-punch”
dust covers every key on the piano spiders have taken over the easel no one creates here anymore rain pattering window’s glass even on a sunny day the doors stay closed no one comes to knock or call newspapers stacked outside the door recall how long it has been thus a cat wanders this floor’sContinue reading “The Artist’s Winter”
I hear a tight jazz quartet smacking out lead-bottomed bass tinkling a shaker, with a half-open hi-hat some soft-fingered ivory tickling peppered with a gritty groan and cigarette smoke I sit, and listen, and I think to myself: why can’t life be just like that? -BSB
This isn’t the end, because it isn’t better.
original artwork by B. Barnes