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Nicholas Barnes
Roll on Tanner Creek
goodnight sun. everything’s starting to look like dinosaur bones. bowl
sparked visions of one too many bacchanals. it’s your favorite hour. all
the watering holes are closed and the queens already took their wigs off.
puffing periques in the closet when you swore you were alone. that early
a.m. inspiration guiding your lips to say another night in the bag. impish
murmurs inviting you to a moondance. along custard yellow streetlamped
streets. you belong to the folks who write verse on bathroom blackboards.
those who scratch their names into mirrors & toilet seats with house keys.
you’re graffiti’s biggest fan. you’re the reason ethel leaves slip covers on
her furniture and keeps her good dinnerware locked up. believed i was the
last libertine, reciting taoist tenets out loud; getting ode to a ruffian tatted
on my thigh; tap dancing with fluffy cat tail shoes. but sitting at the bus
stop today, i heard someone cry aww as you kissed me on the cheek. and
looking at you, i thought to myself, oh how i love people just like that.
About the writer:
Nicholas Barnes earned a Bachelor of Arts in English at Southern Oregon University. He is currently working as an editor in Portland. His poems have appeared in over fifty publications including trampset, NonBinary Review, and Eclectica Magazine.
Image: Cumulus Clouds, East River by Robert Henri (1865-1929). Oil on canvas. 25 3/4 x 32 inches. Between 1901 and 1902. Public domain.
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