Not Knowing the Rules
After he was laid off from his job as a hand model, Paul wanted to know what came next. He thought of the unpredictability of slot machines, how they surprise just enough to stay interesting. He thought good marriages are probably like that. Though Paul had never been on a date or kissed anyone other than old relatives at goodbye time. The thought of amorous wonders made his hands sweat, his breath sharp. When those thoughts wouldn’t leave, he went to a beach near his house. Very quickly, he could taste salt on his lips. The beach was often empty. Sometimes he felt he could carry water right into a dream.
Mike James makes his home outside Nashville, Tennessee and has published widely.His many poetry collections include: Journeyman’s Suitcase (Luchador), Jumping Drawbridges in Technicolor (Blue Horse), and Crows in the Jukebox (Bottom Dog.) He currently serves as an associate editor of Unbroken.
A Song for Mike