Paul Corman-Roberts 


Found inn sleaze soaked, Del Mar roach motel just south of the Strip:

Wondrous squalid Fremont Avenue gift-shop prize.

She wanted to remember this time. Remember the glamorous fluorescent marquee, though it didn’t have the thousand tiny flashing lights like the ones on the Metro squad car.

He was ‘spose t’be lookin’ fer work officer. Bring home some food fer the babies at least. I don’t know what he was doin’ with the like of them folk sir.

A few months later the 7-11 the graveyard manager still hears the echo of her wail careening down the back alley.

Beautiful mother she was.

He fondles what was left behind every time the echoes come around, still in his greasy pockets all this time.

Every souvenir loves a transient town. Knickknacks on tour get epic myths built up around them. Lucky damn trinkets.

In Between Making Plans

We moved to the City to become artists, dealing drugs to make ends meet while chasing down dreams of experimental theater troupes and interactive art installations hidden in plain sight.

After that failed, we were just drug dealers, all good times until we had to buy weapons and figure out where to stash them so the kids wouldn’t discover.

It all seemed perfectly natural when we had repacked those dreams to find ourselves jonesing for different dreams & hey did anyone happen to notice where the kids and guns went?

I hope we remembered to give them compasses.

Published 10-15-17

Paul Corman-Roberts is the founder of Oakland’s longest running literary festival, the Beast Crawl. He organizes literary and other artistic events for fun and even sometimes paying bills, edits fiction and poetry for Full of Crow, The Oakland Review, and even finds time once in a while to publish his work. His most recent collection of prose poems is We Shoot Typewriters from Nomadic Press (2015.)

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