Unable To Locate
Brent Carlin came into the 7-11 to buy a quart of milk.
He showed me the program from our 40th reunion.
My name—unable to locate. I guess I missed the emails.
Well, you found me.
It didn’t start out that way. I did the right things:
Married the girl, raised our son—now in Florida,
I cut hair, drove a Redi-Mix truck, worked
6450 nights at John Deere, got a watch and
a pension too small to fix a leaky roof.
I had a hunger for a different life but
it didn’t happen.
I saw Brent was on the reunion committee.
How hard did he try.
After The Fall
The man needs a person.
The Big God took a rib
but there are other ways. Why not
beaches, walks, slow talk.
A thief steals a suitcase, leaves
a blue sweater graced by a hole.
There is Cornwall, blue skies,
an old blue sweater against chills.
In November’s waning light
pale sand, white as snow before
it melts into brown earth, rocks.
There are mountains, golden leaves
red leaves. Color is key. Some years
squirrels burying bounty in crowded
city parks.festivals and celebrations
of nothing but they are needed for
souls to refresh just like lava lamps
with blue flames to clear heads.
It is all good. What lies!
There is pain. Serpents of life.
There is a woman, a man. The
sweater in a drawer forever blue.
Robert Halleck is a member of San Deigo’s Not Dead Yet Poets. He has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and his poems have appeared in a number of interesting places through the years.