Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Reunion of Sorts by Jasen Sousa

Reunion of Sorts


“Can you come pick me up in Everett?” She says 
as her voice shakes
inside the speaker of my cell phone.

I walk up smoky stairs into a house party 
where I find her in the bedroom sniffing lines
through tightly rolled twenty dollar bills.  

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” she says 
as she leans over
and pecks me on my forehead.  

I sit on the edge of a strange unmade mattress.

“You want some?” Asks the skinny dude 
in a black wife beater with an unfinished tattoo on his bicep.  

“I’m good,” I say.

“We got some killa weed in the kitchen, you

got to try a hit,” says the dark skinned 

fat man who is probably older than my dad. 

“I’m good,” I say.

I hold my breath to try and keep out
the different flavors of smoke
that evaporate over my head.  

I watch her give the same pecks
to a bunch of guys as she clumsily
gets her stuff together.

She grabs me by the wrist
and leads me down 
the backstairs of the house.

She sits shotgun, rolls the window down,
tilts her knees to the side,
closes her eyes
about four different times.

“Can you turn the station?” she asks.




First Published
in
Somewhere Lost

Copyright © 2011 by Jasen Sousa

Copyright © All Rights Reserved by J-Rock Publishing

Library of Congress
Cataloging in Publication Data
ISBN  978-0-9714926-7-7

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