Somewhere Better

Trash up and down I-95–there’s
urine on the toilet seat
and somewhere better to be. He,

a master of modern conveniences
and just fine with his own vagueness,
drives like the rest of South Florida.

I like my jazz–with acid,
Where did all these
goddam crows come from?

Abyss is a good word,
but I like to say
an extremely deep hole.

 

By Chris Cannella

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