Matt Miles 

Three Years Perspective 

She sits by me when I smoke 
and steps onto the sidewalk 
hands on hips, 
and expounds 
on the turning of the stars 
and the sounds that filter back 
through the neighborhood. 

a train locks it's brakes 
and mars laments 
the loss of his mother. 

some trees tickle 
and others stick. 

the road will be done soon 
and we'll all hold hands 
when we cross. 

--next time, 
when we all come out 

don't say "lets go back in" 
ok? 

--ok. 

a cigarette takes three minutes. 

Jerron Robinson 

My Twirl 

38 39