it smells like rain
— a poem by Justin Hyde

i might be the father
of a four year old boy,

the mother
is trying to track me down;

my new girlfriend
crashed a porsche
at the age of fifteen,

her mind is a calculator
she apologizes
for nothing,

just whispers
in my ear
with a southern lilt;

my ex-gf
with lurid blue eyes
like church windows
is trying to track me down,

she finds me
cries & cries
asking if i'm
dating anyone new;

sit down
just pick one and sit down,

the old hispanic man
with silver rings
all over his left hand
told me in a bar
twenty years ago,

pick one
sit down
it's all the same
get old and fat hijo,

he put his silver ringed hand
on my neck
& laughed
& laughed

in a rambling

Justin Hyde is a poet and Literary Editor for The Commonline Journal. He is the former Poetry Editor of Thieves Jargon and the author of the chapbooks Down Where the Hummingbird Goes to Die (2008) and Another Casualty at the 34th St. Bus Stop (2009). His last collection of poems is An Elephant Hole (2014, Interior Noise Press). He lives in Iowa and works with criminals.