Yellow Mama E zine

Cut-class gypsies

 

by Craig Kirchner

 

In younger days naiveté,
my lies, liquor in the locker,

and fantasies.

Long legs, short skirt, front row,

pen between your teeth,

and your name haunted me
as though it were my own.

 

We were fresh,

day-glow painted,

cut-class gypsies with tie-dyed minds.

Clowns in a medieval play,

mocking psychedelic phantoms,
landing unscathed from

shadows whispering Halloween.

Touched lips and hands

blurred to ours,
hid us from hollow stares.

All that I saw was your vision
as it smuggled the glow,

steeled the space,
between green eyes and mine.

 

Far away now, as maps allow,

but permanent on the horizon,

zephyrs of sweet breath,

your spice always the faint

mint taste in my mouth—

all sons should chance upon,

make their way complete.

​

     Craig Kirchner lives in Florida because his granddaughters are there. He loves the aesthetics of writing, has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels and has had three poems nominated for a Pushcart.  He has been published in Chiron, Yellow Mama, Main Street Rag, and more than 100 others.  Craig houses 500 books in his office and about the same number of poems on a laptop; these words help keep him straight. He can be found at Bluesky.

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     Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Ángeles. His artwork has appeared over the years in Medusa’s Kitchen, Nerve Cowboy, The Dope Fiend Daily, and Rogue Wolf Press, Venus in Scorpio Poetry E-Zine.