Austin Boulevard in April

A crucifix

high in
the cold
gray clouds

A poor
man walks
through
puddles
past the
porno bookstore
—Lee Kitzis

Still

Blushing cheeks
Cheap cigarettes
Thoughts wandering.
What could have been
Is now the end
Sitting at our table.
The same old scene
Every day
And still you say
You love me.

—RaeAnn Olson

The Beauty Salon

Loud conversations; television blaring; lights shining bright; and curlers ready for action. The head dryer is exporting torturing heat and the hard hot water is soothing the scalp.

On a cool summer night this place is busy and turning nappy kitchens into do’s. Where I am is a place for anybody; in some places the sign ‘Children not allowed unless being served’ is becoming a popular one. It’s filled with fumes and chemicals and plenty of juicy gossip.

—April Smith

Aine

A girl with white socks
pulled right up to her knees.
And how she delighted the
93-year-old yogi.

Boom boom boom
Went the aspirin in the glass.
Making music in the smoky
Mirrors of the blues bar.

And lust was a cup in
a kitchen in the morning.
You don’t live there.
It was just the heat.

The little girl
should never have looked into
the old yogi’s eyes.
She fell into his mind.
Or was it hers?

—Mark Caffrey