09 Nov




Back when afternoons were fifty cents and a nickel bag

a borrowed gesture or two, a malt liquor 24oz.

a stoop in a neighborhood where you don’t live

a stolen record that you don’t really need

but that you will listen to

because it is another conquest

When those afternoons

drowned out the mundane and everything else

at the same time

When those afternoons

took you on a long train ride

took you around in a loop

and you end up on the beach

and you sit familiar amongst strangers

and you talk

and talk

and say things your parents don’t let you say

and you try to kiss the girls with the shiny faces

and you let them take their own jeans off

because your hands fidget nervously

because your legs shake, your eyes twitch

and you don’t want them to see

you want them occupied

and when it all becomes bare

you pretend you’re cool on the warm sand

you pretend like there’s no one watching

and when you’re finished

and only a quarter hour has passed

you pull out the weed like an apology

you become taciturn out of lack of else to be

and when the joint is rolled

their mendacity pulls you back

enshrouds you warmly

on the warm sand

in the cool gathering

and you talk again

and you keep talking

and you will eventually

only have fifty cents left

and a long train ride home.


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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings

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