this interview is all wrong
—a prose poem by Jake Tringali

after flying down the milky clouds into the absence of a city, the elder had walked to the agreed locale, one that imitates a Moroccan café-brothel but is filled with tweety girls a-humpin and young ballers-to-be, all fuggy with zing, pinballing against collared waitstaff serving foie gras with olive oil gel under arabesque chandeliers and cracked mirrors.

this is not tangiers.  the sweetened mint tea helps stabilize his reality.
the elder reminds himself: it is friday, late of dusk and festive, and the dark men who will be interviewing him are at the backbar finishing their juvenilia cocktails.

so he continues to scan the room.  silver and bone inlay, dank fog in the back, probably from a hookah but who knows, the tackiest goatskin coffee table, and he wonders why a toy airplane with ten seats would ever want to set ground here.  chaabi trance thumps and bumps the tea saucer, the same seven notes, phrygian spikes driven down the elder’s brain.

the elder could use a shave, but remains professional, prompt, and sadly, alert.  the dark men approach, they stagger angry and aggressive.  he reaches for the mint tea, bitter now, one last time.

The Poet: Jake Tringali was born in Boston. Lived up and down the East Coast, and then up and down the West Coast, and currently in Los Angeles. Runs rad restaurants. Thrives in a habitat of bars, punk rock shows, and a sprinkling of burlesque performers. Throughout 2014 and 2015, publications include The Commonline Journal, Catch & Release, Boston Poetry Magazine, Indiana Voice Journal, and twenty other fine journals.

The Photographer: Helene Macaulay is an actor, filmmaker, photographer and poet, residing in New York City and Madison, Wisconsin. Her films have been broadcast on PBS affiliates throughout the Northeastern United States and her photography has been exhibited internationally, including the National Portrait Gallery, London, UK. Her work is available for viewing at