June 2008 / Volume Eight / Issue Two
William Taylor Jr.
Strewn About the Days

The sirens don't stop

on a hot and empty
August afternoon

as people lean against
the walls of liquor stores
waiting for the day
to bring them something

the bar at Jones and Ellis
is the closest I can find
to nowhere

I play the jukebox

while outside
people walk
with studied purpose
to studied destinations

I choose my songs
and wonder how it was
I was born into their world

all these hours
strewn about the days

none of which
I can seem to hold
or make use of

an angry child
still dreaming of the day
when he'll grow up
to be something
more than ugly.