on their porch from
my balcony —
the sights that be, seeing
helis along big buildings
those clouds —
a blanket this space, covering
myself in a layered
look. Jackets
and jazz, serenading the neighbs.
Some door bangs, chattering
that boy
from unit 2, talking aloud
to his dad, says
he left
a water bottle in the
car, oh boy! I did
that too
this morning, it was a
day of errand leisure
no– ((kid)ding:
took a test for work that I talked myself out of
meandered ‘round my idling car, waiting to fill up
did my measly tasks about town, a one-street world
grabbed “everything” I had ((left behind)
from the night) before, including
that water bottle (where (“my(?)
friend”)) and I went to
dinner (and a concert (and
I saw an (“old”) “acquaintance”))
who I “learned” “more” about
(with who(m)) I didn’t share
Today,) I was watching the
sun(((se)t) when I heard you
for on(c)e
sec(ond)). One wondered, if you
2, heard the jazz.
Yesterday’s drying
in a dish rack. A
dish rack. A dish
rack (rack)
Anthony AW (@an__o__) is an LA-based writer. His work has been published in Drunk Monkeys, Seafoam Mag, Vagabond City, and forthcoming in Soft Cartel. Anthony practiced his writing under writer Terry Wolverton at her workshop called Poets at Work from 2017-2018. He currently hosts tête-à-tête, a queer reading series at Book Show in the Highland Park neighborhood.
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