———————————————————————————-

yet they never do

i see road

signs that say

end road work

yet they never

do

all the same

faces all these

years later

if dreams keep

us alive

this place was

dead long before

i was ever born

and they wonder

why no one stays

puts down roots

the white picket

fences never make

it through the first

round of storms

hard to keep up

with which america

are we this week

longing for a sunset

a porch to fall

asleep on

something cold

to drink on a hot

summer day

————————————————-

to whatever is a life

driving the highway

in the rain

mind starting to

drift into the void

haven’t seen any

headlights in hours

a trip i was supposed

to take over thirty

years ago

nothing like eventually

getting around to finally

taking the first steps to

whatever is a life

i’m sure there will

be some woman

along the way

plenty of poems

and probably a

disease or two

didn’t exactly come

from the right side

of the tracks

and i clearly understand

the only way out of this

fucking life is death

————————————————————–

buried in their phones

yet another waiting

room with everyone

buried in their phones

black lesbian couple

laughs at some video

online

i’m over in the corner

scribbling poems like

a crazy fuck

that always makes

me laugh

not like i’m scribbling

in blood or something

trying to figure out

what restaurant was

here before it became

a dentist office

mom hates that we

had to come to one

of these places

she’s slowly figuring

out that at her age,

they would much

rather her die than

actually meet her

deductible with

her medicare

—————————————————

having never been one

bloody nose

broken neck

this is the kind

of party usually

reserved for

your twenties

this is what

happens when

a younger woman

comes along

when the old man

wants to pretend

he can still hang

with the cool

ones

having never been

one ever before

scribbling poems

in the bathroom

trying not to get

shit in the wrong

places

just enough pain

that this chance

is never going

to end well

perhaps, there’s

a tragedy in

waiting

figures, none

of that paperwork

has been filed

——————————————————

longing for death like

killing time instead

of whatever else

my inner child

plays the harmonica

thinks of himself

as a more handsome

version of tom waits

that always makes

me laugh

but soon i’ll be

walking the streets

longing for death

like a random kiss

on a hot summer

night

sure, a rose can grow

in concrete but here

we only get the weeds

dancing with fireflies

gypsies playing music

not heard for years

her eyes are an

unfolding tragedy

her tears were for

a nation that no

longer cares

mere seconds to go

until the collapse

will be complete

start up the band

the silence is ending

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know better. the 3 time Best of the Net nominee and 2 time Pushcart Prize nominee has been widely published over the years. Most recently at Yellow Mama, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Rye Whiskey Review, Night Owl Narrative and Disturb the Universe Magazine. His most recent book, to live your dreams, published by Whiskey City Press, is available to purchase on Amazon.com by going here: https://a.co/d/08MEaejk