Red Lights Glow (a poem)

Transit of my soul
From numbing place to place
Dark nights, howling winds
Rattling of a rib-cage window
Naked moon glares above
Skeletal grind and pain
A refrain from dream-cities
Nestled inside the house
Winter chill, freeze-agony
Red lights glow from
Street-corner temples
Listen to the wind
It never lies

(Photo by Brianna Santellan on Unsplash)

Suffocation (a poem)

celestial bodies high up above

are partially hidden in this

light-polluted city where

we hear screams from

four-story buildings &

smell pulsing humanity,

seeping thru the walls

of our studio apartments –

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Parallel Parking Olympics (a poem)

If there was ever a Parallel Parking Olympics

it’d be in South Philly

cars jam into microscopic spots

enough to cause anxiety

but you, with your back-up camera

squeeze in like it’s no big deal

this shit is real!

parking spots are like gold

circle the block like a vulture

starving, on the prowl

maybe you’ll get lucky

find a spot front-and-center

(Photo by Cali Riffee on Unsplash)

City of Dogs (a short story)

Cindy parked her work truck in the shade by a McDonald’s and took a big bite out of her Quarter Pounder. Her lunch breaks were always interrupted by phone calls — the endless calls from dispatchers. Today was no different.

When her phone rang, she turned down the Brad Paisely song on her radio.

 “Hey, sunshine,” said Marcus, the dispatcher. “Feel like catching any more dogs today?”

It wasn’t the call Cindy wanted to get. But at least it wasn’t the call, the one she constantly feared getting.

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Infiltrating the Network (a poem)

Who is behind the curtain?

Is Portia a super-intelligent AI autocrat –

or is there a murkier figure behind her avatar

hidden in dank data centers of Techno-City?

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