at a red light in saint louis
an ashen faced
african american
stood on the
sidewalk
slowly waving at us
like a retarded
clown
while repeating:
have a blessed day.
at the green
dad parked
around the
corner.
i watched him
slide the guy
some money
and shake his
hand.
the world can do
funny things
to a person,
he said
as we
drove off.
dad had
a soft spot
for
cast-offs.
nights
with a few forties
in the veins
i want to
pick up the phone
tell him
i always respected
that
but
i don't
have his
number.
the other 10 percent
90%of success
is based on the merit
of your
creative act.
the remainder
is networking
and
any mediocre poet
with half a brain
and a little savvy
licks ass
with the acuity
of a thousand dollarwhore.
the small press
especially
is flush
with these
nematodes
for example
probably
you.
Justin Hyde lives in Iowa where he works with criminals. He has a web-page here: http://www.nyqpoets.net/poet/justinhyde.
