I Got a Million and One
James Miller I got a million and one places to go, don’t need this, don’t need this class-- going for process tech, maybe instrumentation, leaving campus, 8:50 PM, most Tuesdays train’s pumping by, that waiting is its own weight, you think I couldn’t make it in California, back home blocks from the donut factory where you were born, fucked it up in Missouri City, wife’s having her first at San Jacinto, brother’s out of prison, propped on the porch, husband’s froth like Barq’s and bile, first hour into cookout crawdads, by the second hour peeking divorce court on your phone, Stovall vs Davis Junious vs Stepney, this being the third round in school, pray serious as shrapnel most mornings, and amen here you are slathing apricot preserves on genu-wine artisan sourdough, pale blue chopping board in the sink with damp crumbs and butter, guh-lorious the way squirrels flop and drop, dread in their apt. parking plots, four more credits and you’re on the run, but graduation’s autotune classic rock radio, brain damage, any colour you like, elo was not the house you grew up in but the stringy one across the street, grey brick and treeless lawn, once you shivered over the back fence for a pocked nerf and the pitbull chewed your buttcheek raw, a couple days no sitting on your ass, but worse for the dog (just now occurs to you for the first time), rabies shot and by August you’re ready to forgive, but by then the house is empty, they left in a hurry, takeout Whataburger piled on the dining table, you know that gut feeling, mountains of fries to follow and unclaimed pickles, and noon roaches scatter when you rap, once, on the porch glass. |
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About the Author: James Miller is a native of Houston, though he has spent time in the American Midwest, Europe, China, South America and India. He has published poetry in Riversedge, the Houston Poetry Fest 2016, Sweet Tree Review, Lullwater Review, Burnt Pine, Boston Accent, Plainsongs, Cold Mountain Review, The Tishman Review, The Maine Review, Bird’s Thumb, Straight Forward Poetry, Gyroscope, 2River, After the Pause, Main Street Rag, Lunch Ticket and Across the Margin.