John Devers Jr., Summer 2016

Two Poems

Kingston
John Devers Jr.

Let your car replace your mind
And drive
To retrace your steps
Down old, familiar streets.
You pass the pizza place
Turned floral shop,
Whose pizza was terrible
With over-risen bread
And diluted tomato sauce,
But you ate it because
You were young
And your parents
Only gave you so much.

You pass the ice cream shop,
Where either the workers
Got younger
Or you got taller,
And your chances of low-key
Freebies
Dropped exponentially
The further you went away
From your High School graduation.

You pass your ex’s house Continue reading “John Devers Jr., Summer 2016”

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