[ directions to my house ]Brent Goodman
Bail your first career. Slouch stoned and indignant in your boss's corner office as he scuttles the company to outside interests. Take a hard left where your 20’s burn two black lines into the blooming median. Here, think of my hand as a map. Travel all day north until you’ve climbed to the fingertips of Wisconsin. Six lanes narrow to four, two, gravel, pinecones. I’ll glowstick the mailbox for ya. I’ve left the doors unlocked.
Brent Goodman Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2022, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|