poetry by j matthew waters

115 Iowa Avenue

I keep changing for no apparent reason
one nondescript day superseding the next
as if I was back in college

The night before you leave a message
about hooking up at Joe’s Place

Of course I don’t recall your words
until the next morning
and by the time I’m halfway through
19th Century Literature
I’m making up any kind of excuse
to cut the hell loose

It’s 4 pm on a Monday afternoon
and I’m exactly where I want to be
[albeit some forty years later]
ordering a cold one and stringing
together words on ruled paper
laying 50/50 odds this time you’ll show

january two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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