from the moleskin

a mission
--ain't it always a rough draft

2 days off work sick i return with a cough plosive
like an elephant gun
barely making it inside cesar chavez plaza
there's a queen who stops right there
legs akimbo head down staring
hard at the cracks in the concrete
then looks up at me as i pass and says good luck
in a deep voice
fair enough i think which might or might not mean a thing
but make it into this poem
and might also make it a good day