james h. duncan
Dash Lights & Static
the woman’s voice on NPR
when she breaks rank
and called him “dude” and
laughs;
I am lost in it, and the rain
slips from silence in between
she is beautiful, I know
I see her in every
woman reading a book
glasses and brown mousy hair
these women shake me
and she is their voice
eternal, rational, metropolitan
she is my ventricle beating wild
mixed with dash lights and
static
the woman
interviews a soldier with 60
stitches
and two broken wrists
who jumped from a window in the
Dominican
Republic while on leave from
Iraq
he barely survived and her voice
aches for him with lithe and
witty banter
and the rain sheets the
windshield
I imagine their late night
studio
but shake it away as he speaks
he I can live without, the
soldier
who fell and broke his face
the static blots them both and
I switch off
no sense in delaying
the $7 bottle of whiskey
snug between my legs
anything worth doing is worth
doing here and now
maybe later we’ll jump
I think
as I lock the car
tasting the rain head first
James H Duncan is a tramp, a
gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and
adventure. The editor of Hobo Camp Review, James considers himself a student of
the road, where you’ll find him in late-night diners, local dive bars, and
wandering train station platforms minding his own business. Apt, Red Fez, Reed
Magazine, Slipstream, Poetry Salzburg Review, and The Battered Suitcase, among
many others, have welcomed his work. More at
http://jameshduncan.blogspot.com