BETWEEN FOUR JUNCTIONS KYLE KIRKPATRICK

A City by the Sea

last night I dreamt of a city by the sea there were fountains there were markets there were strays there were Spaniards who were red-faced when the tide came in last night I dreamt of a city by the sea there were towers there were bullfights there were ticket booths there were crooks who sold out while the church bells rang last night I dreamt of a city by the sea there were Jews there were Arabs there were bars there were lanterns that burnt brightest when the sun came down last night I dreamt of a city by the sea there were dates there were oranges there were girls there were mothers who gave in long into the night

The Captain

I kept the fire going through ten o’clock drizzle, cracked open Coronas, drank ’em in eight, seven, six . . . retraced my muddy footprints back from the bathroom, found no goodness in my wide-eyed mates.

For what could they do with a drunken sailor’s son but refer him to the captain, that all too righteous right authority?

There’d be no need for pay, even less for parents. Slipping in his keys, reciting his lines, he could recline the leather car seat an inch.