by Debbie Collins
she’d cut her hair with the tiny bathroom scissors again
it was spiked into some crazy birdlike fluff like the ducklings
making their way to the pond through the parking lot
she watches them from her window
and makes clucking sounds with her tongue
where have you been, she pleaded with me
words like quarantine and isolation made her wince
with remembering and pain
Charles passed on, she said quietly,
not meeting my eyes
we lost four on our floor altogether she said,
studying the parking lot
put on your mask, I say, let’s get out of here –
the sun is glorious today
finally, finally she can feel the sun on her face,
and we’re both, just for now,
wrapped in a daydream
Debbie Collins lives and writes in Richmond, Virginia. She has been published in Third Wednesday, antinarrative, and Flatbush Review, among others. Her first book, he says i’m fierce, was just released by Finishing Line Press. Jim Baron is the owner, with his wife Liz, of the Dallas-based Blue Mesa Grill restaurants and TNT/Tacos and Tequila. He’s been a surf bum all his life, with his late brother Bob and younger brother Dan. He spends a couple hours every day painting water colors, and happiness for him is being on the beach with Liz, Kate, Zak, Ian, and Lola, the labradoodle, who runs the show.
Global Poemic 