A poem from Oswald James

“So, this place was a morgue?”
by Oswald James

the singer said to silence
it was true
we heard this place was a funeral home
before a bar
earlier in the night
by a fire

the locals seemed offended

Lara had taken up w/ some drifter
a table over
her man,
remarkably patient
bought her another

the band,
all tall and pale
were deep into the desert
and sounded like death
it was the last night of tour

I sat there feeling like a dried out yucca bloom
with a throat full of agave
every eye in the room
gazed upon the goddess on bass
until she stared back
and moved the place to envy or lust

under the icy stars
we rode out with the tumbling weeds
and wondered, “what next?”

Oswald James owns and operates Alta Real Pictures, a film/video production company based in Austin, TX

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