cold water glistens we were raw souls we didn't know it sapling catalpas roam subtropical summer sidewalks desperate for a breath inside the walls of swelter there would be this electric buzz rattling in the air of our childhood bedrooms our teeth would chatter simultaneous then we would be in the streets in our shorts, our underroos the local fireman opened the plugs, the water rushed torrents along neighborhood curbs all the kids were there between parked car rapids some feet in, some ass in some attempt to swim some erode into the debris of the city these little catalpas inebriated in perfect equation cold water glistens meets summer afternoon a still life in eternity
About the Author: Jason Baldinger was recently told he looks like a cross between a lumberjack and a genie. He’s also been told he’s not from Pittsburgh but is the physical manifestation of Pittsburgh. Although unsure of either, he does love wandering the country writing poems. He’s penned fifteen books of poetry the newest of which include: The Afterlife is a Hangover (Stubborn Mule Press) and A History of Backroads Misplaced: Selected Poems 2010-2020 (Kung Fu Treachery), and This Still Life with James Benger. His work has appeared across a wide variety of print journals and online. You can hear him read his work on Bandcamp and on lps by The Gotobeds and Theremonster.
Image Credit: Angelo Rizzuto “Young boy leaning on fire hydrant” The Library of Congress (public domain)