Thursday, October 28, 2010


My street smells like peaches

in the middle of the night

when I’m drunk

Or perhaps that’s just what I imagine

so tired of the scents of

crowded bars and cigarettes

and stuffy cabs on

humid nights so withering

that I forget it’s autumn and not

the middle of summer

as I stumble over darkened

root-fingers that want me to stay

and sit among the leaves

and scampering anoles

and tell tall tales about the night

I was accosted by the peach trees


Anonymous said...

feels unfinished ?

stephenmahoney73 said...

I enjoyed the poem. I liked the circular progression through to completion. I have one negative and that is the use of 'withering' in that spot right after 'humid nights so'. 'Withered' implies 'sere, dried out' to me. I think the perfect word for that spot is 'weltering'. Check the def:
. wel·tered, wel·ter·ing, wel·ters
1. To wallow, roll, or toss about, as in mud or high seas.
2. To lie soaked in a liquid.
3. To roll and surge, as the sea.
It works on three levels. Can't get much better.