by dominae cole
The Santa Anas blow,
while I pen your name
on the back of my hand
like a short list of things
My bloody cuticles hold
barely lit American Spirits,
and I sip a never ending
Heineken on a balcony.
It is Friday, but it feels
like forever as I listen
to him strum his electric
with tough love strokes.
This is not my life,
but it is for today
and it fits like
a new pair of sneakers.
So I run, run, run.
0 thoughts on “Costa Mesa”
Just nice. A moment captured, a slice of life. And it pleases me.
I like someone being a short list of things to do.
I like American Spirits (my choice when I was a smoker).
I like that Friday feels like forever.
I like the absence of the word ‘guitar’.
I like tough love strokes.
I like that it’s not his /her life, but for today it it.
and I like that (s)he is gonna run in them sneakers. Because when you have new sneakers, that’s the best, most freeing thing to do. (Of course, you’ll get blisters, but most good things come with some discomfort somewhere.)
I like what’s at the heart of this poem, but I can’t help but look at it as being more like a draft than a finished poem. Which probably says more about me than the poem itself – I want to edit the line breaks and the phrasing. Which means it caught my attention, but tends to stir my [overly obsessive] inner editor more than anything else.
I liked it, though I felt similar to Fogman about the rhythm being thrown off by some of the breaks. I like the mood presented above all, even though your choice of beer troubled me. I actually live in Costa Mesa, and I suggest you switch to Pacifico or Tecate next time you’re out here. 🙂
Haha… good choice of beer Matt. Those are preferred beers here in Texas as well, especially with a lime on a 108 degree day.
Oh yeah. I was out there in San Marcos and Austin two weeks ago. If it weren’t for the rivers and the beer I’d be toast.
matt is a queer and this poem is amazing