New Work

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One of Ed's recent poems:

After Graduating from College with a Degree in Creative Arts

I was angry at a woman in San Jose

and sick of apartment cockroaches

so I tossed my stuff into the back of a pickup

and left town,

moved in with my parents

and searched for work.

Sometimes you take

what you can get,

like a job at a roller disco

cruising the floor on polyurethane wheels

in a ridiculous orange vest and white slacks,

blowing a whistle at speeding teens

while skating backward

beneath the mirror ball

in a warehouse of clamor.

Some nights I succumbed

to the beat and crowd current,

the sheer illusion of weightlessness,

a dancing fool

drifting like dandelion down

on the concussive wind

of the Commodores
thinking, "I'm too old for this."

Slippery floor, tangled bodies,

ice on swollen wrists.

Fall and rise. Float and crash.

Feet gasping for breath.

After closing, locking up,                                 

crowds and staff gone home,

I would leave that darkened parking lot

and hit the empty highway,

sky black as loneliness

and just as absolute.