Introducing
James Croal Jackson

 

 

Rink

 

a buzz of speed

& basement grease slick

 

the party lights, I never graduated bumper

bowling, holy Z of physics, clunky

 

mechanics of moving the body

any which direction, forward

 

time decrees, manifestation my

brother’s swollen feet, wheels

 

in motion sugaring me

circles circles circles

 

 

 

 

 

Vehicle

 

under awning

a body’s

 

passenger

the form

 

will frame

this blueprint  

 

on gravel

with steel 

 

this safe

cannot break

 

 

 

 

 

Condado Beach / Condado Tacos

 

Your sister gets engaged at Condado Beach.

You and I– when it happens– are in the middle

of another meal, paper boats of combo soft/hard-

shell concoctions at Condado Tacos, and when she calls

us later, at The Abbey, we joke I should have proposed

before Mark did tonight, when I stuffed-mouth called it!

that they would get engaged in Puerto Rico, that I should

have wrapped your ring finger in tortilla and professed

my love, of course, in a dramatic drunken offering at the

corner of a bar, of which we have done a thousand times,

but not here, to do it first, with nostalgia borne from

our presence at a small chain founded in the city

our story began. But when we lived in Columbus

we were lukewarm upon Condado’s now-sacred

offerings until it felt like homesickness brought

deus ex machina and a Condado was constructed

a couple blocks away in Lawrenceville. There,

our lust for long-ago brought us back and again.

We feasted through soft and lean times and almost

threw white flags of surrender at each other. This  

time, at the bottom of our split-check receipts, we

saw an opportunity to join their rewards program.

This is how we sign our own lifetime commitment.

 

 

 

 

 

June 22, 2019 – Morning

 

If there is no coffee

in any of these storefronts–

if I walk up another hill–

 

scattered branches, lily weeds

protruding from the pavement,

roses bending out of vases–

 

take me into the tree-

speckled shadows

before I rest there now.

 

 

 

 

 

Someday I’ll Enter the Kingdom

 

 

of I-don’t-regret-this

and for now my crown is

in my mouth. my temporary

 

house from bricks

heavy hands worn

from endless insistence

 

of perfectionism

in a mirrorless era

of self self self self self

 

upon which I am guilty

indulging in that grease

 

 

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