I swear I spotted Gumby
eating al fresco at
Cliff’s Dive Bar & Grill
Last I knew he was
packed inside a box
in transit from Columbus
to Cedar Rapids
Upon retelling my story
I was rudely informed
what I probably saw
was an alien figment
of my own imagination
may two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we were supposed to be
in california
somewhere due north
of san pablo bay
but somehow wound up
in scottsdale arizona
where it didn’t take long to notice
the dust never settles
april two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
after losing my wallet & passport
either to forgetfulness
or a pickpocket
I’ve suddenly become
undocumented
but I was born here I say
I just don’t remember
coming out of
my mother’s womb
—that this place is all I know
but now that I find myself
undocumented
I simply don’t know anymore
I don’t give them permission
to go through my phone
but they do it anyway
surprised to see I’ve
got three virtual credit cards
and money in the bank
you can’t stay here they say
turn around & put
your hands behind your back
what are you doing I say
this is where I belong
please don’t take me away
you’re undocumented
they go on to say
there’s nothing else we can do
april two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s twenty twenty-five
listening to vinyls
in the second bedroom
turned into opium den
—long plays by the beatles
stones & cream
windows wide open
peaceful vibes attract
various passersby
—curiosity seekers clad in
nostalgic blue jeans
or new wave outerwear
music like a passage
through time
sometimes cast from
the last place imaginable
—perhaps from your
very last lifeline
april two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I walk alone
wirelessly
bone conduction
headphones
blaring angst
—like an american idiot
with nothing left
to ignore
but his very self
march two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Wanting to do a little math
but I’d forgotten the year
I was forced to lower my shades
and ask a complete stranger
She said I looked familiar
but I lied and said
I wasn’t from around here
and repeated the question
Secured with the knowledge
I arrived at the conclusion
having counted backwards
by way of fingers & toes
I tipped my flea market fedora
and went about my business
fairly certain I’d remain invisible
for at least a few more days
march two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there’s a difference
between living in the past
and simply replaying it
more as an exercising
of the brain
than anything else
no longer interested in
keeping the demons
at bay long ago released
and left to their own
devices
some as far away as
Okinawa
others right down the street
memory is the epitome
of being human
—depending upon the light
of day the story always
changing
or simply tweaked
due to the circumstance
but always according to his
or her own gospel
february two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
forced to leave the kitchen table
from underneath
there were calls to be kicked at
as I crawled out
ordered to be exiled to my room
nobody pays attention
to anything around here
so soon thereafter I sneak out
through the front door
easily enough
along the way I met
my oldest brother
telling me I’m in big trouble
hell don’t I know it
I don’t saying a fucking word
moving on in search
of a safer house
february two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
you open the front door
first thing in the morning
sticking your head out
and looking around
but there is nothing to find
no newspaper
no milk bottles
no basket of goodies left by
the children next door
after shutting the door
and retreating back into your den
you wonder whatever
happened to yesterday
when everything seemed
so perfectly normal
all the while knowing
deep in your heart
that was never the case
february two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Tending bar
on a school night
we’d announce last call
half past midnight
the help helping themselves
to a pint of beer
once the last of the students
made their way out
into the night
Soon afterwards
I’d find myself with pen & paper
in a corner booth
counting syllables
& rhyming words
picked up from strangers
who had no other place
to go for the night
other than here
february two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I don’t belong here
where the skies have been crying
longer than a fortnight
and the birds of the air
have all but disappeared
their morning songs
but a distant memory
The once vibrant town has turned
into a populace of grey ghosts
roaming directionless
an aftermath of fire & brimstone
unleashed on the innocent
by someone or something
with an unknown agenda
I don’t belong here
where there is no mercy
where those I once cherished
have turned their backs
& walked away without explanation
leaving the world I once knew
barely recognizable
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Once we put snow tires
on the old beat-up Cadillac
she suddenly turned into a Leviathan
tearing through the elevated city
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
At the corner bodega
some el gato genial
told me they sell tamales
& mudslides in the musty cellar
after closing time on Friday nights
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Flags & banners
a singular spirit
a collective grievance
marching past
graffiti-lined walls
and underpasses
leading up to the hill
demanding the final pieces
be put into place
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
lady of the mirror
calls you to retreat into reflection
back to the city center
where you once wandered the streets at night
or deep into the forest
where sights & sounds remind you
of a life before this one
she tells you what you crave
is a nonjudgmental environment
one in which your own
reflection
reminds you of the stars that shine
revealing all the many things
you are certain to find
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Sometimes I’ll ask myself
what would Bukowski do
and sure enough
I find myself back at the track
having a beer
& studying the program
in the back of my mind
calculating how much I might
possibly win
but more importantly
how much I couldn’t
afford to lose
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 