by Collin James

 

I learned how to drive

in its soft corners,

smoked cigarettes

on the cracked wooden stairs.

Dogma sandwiches

were lovingly prepared

in a sarcastically white kitchen.

Young, young women wandered about

making distorted but accurate

prophesies of when we would die.

 


 

Collin James works in Energy Conservation and is a great admirer of the Scottish landscape painter, John Mackenzie.

 

This poem originally appeared in issue 1.