poem
Volume 28, Number 2

Shelter

It could be otherwise. By the time 
I qualify for senior passes, it could be
that when I get off downtown 
I could walk across the freeway 
as if I'd done it for years, when in fact
the one time I made that wrong turn 
my eyes got wide and all I could think
was don't look around and keep calm;
but this time I'd know I was going
to what had become the Acorn
Co-Op Farmstand, where Davon, who 
decades ago in my classroom had told 
JB how he planned to kill the dude who'd shot 
his cousin at the Acorn projects, would 
sell me whatever was good that day, and
after our exchange was done his cousin
would give me a look as I turned to head 
back downtown, a look saying thanks
for your business, get back to your 
place now, this place is ours.


—Michael Jones