Two More Poems by Vol Lindsey


It is the eighteenth of June
and it is hot as soup.
I’m smoking a cigarette
at the bar and nobody I know
is here. That Blues chick
is setting up for a red hot gig
so the music is about to jump and jive.
But I’m thinking about this
article I read. It says they’ve
found the God part of the brain.
Set an electromagnet in just
the right place and there He is!
In person, and He wants to talk.
The scientist says, “We’re
self-aware,” and that’s pretty
damned existential, if you ask me.

We can die, and the universe
will bounce right along, so
our brains cry out “OH, GOD!”
in self defense… “I want MORE!”
Meanwhile, that Blues chick
leans in to the guy with the
shaved head and starts
the count’ Anda 1, anda 2, 3...


“The night is falling
and it is a long way down,”
you said, and sipped your
Merlot. Caught me by
surprise on my side of
the booth at Torino’s, we
let the evening melt into the
reds of Minestrone, lasagna,
and wine, then a walk down
the avenue.
Little did we know how bright
our sun would shine before
your words bore fruit.
It was a failure of the heart,
the doctors said, but there was
nothing medical about it.


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