PAY PHONE AT THE BOTTOM OF ROCK CREEK
It is good to find a pay phone
at the bottom of Rock Creek—
watch the water
silently drown out
the drivel of DC,
let the worn-out words sleep.
I don't want to think about
the melodrama that brought
that phone to this creek—
the screaming lover that
tore it from the booth,
the hoodlums and vandals,
the viscious drug dealers and pimps,
the paranoid jerks, the whores—
the deal-makers, deal-breakers,
Let it rest.
a murmur of minnows
up to the receiver.
The phone rusts
in the sweet creek's
This is my news tonight.
first book, The Bullfrog Does Not Imagine New Towns, won
the Washington Writers Publishing House contest. His poems have been
published in The Atlanta Review, Baltimore Review,
Potomac Review, and Sycamore Review, and on-line
on Poetry Daily. He is currently working with Boston-based
blues pianist Bruce Bears on a recording of his "Shamokin Monologues."
He lives in Poolesville, MD.
Volume 7, Number 3, Summer 2006.
More by this author:
Jankowski: Audio Issue