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Poem: An Errand 

he

cruised the dusty streets,

the sun harsh in his eyes.

a nondescript town:

the desert's edge,

tarpaper shacks

lining the gullies,

potholes

that could crack a tire,

a moldy main street:

bars—

grime-dark windows,

stores—

gaudy junk.

he

had slept

on sheets gray

and frayed

like the town,

showered

in a rust-stained tub,

the motel redolent

of piss and bleach.

he

cared not a whit.

his business,

god willing,

soon to be done

and the armpit of a town

left in the dust.

he

cruised slowly,

carefully—

there:

an ochre house—

the yard uncluttered—

a brown woman:

black hair tied back,

swollen belly,

wide hips,

full breasts.

she

held a boy by the hand.

she

would do.

he

got her on the first shot.

he

considered

getting the boy

but

drove on.

god

had said nothing

about a boy.

  • A poem by Geoffrey Craig.

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