On  a Walk in Long Beach
Tommy Jarrell


 
​Today I was the collector
of intention and the ground
a catcher of sawdust
beneath a whirring tablesaw
where newlyweds were committing
their recently purchased home
to renovation. Nearby, a cow-
colored cat watched my every move
beneath the green, unripened weight
of pomelos still tethered to their tree.
On a busy avenue, by an abandoned taco stand,
two mormon missionaries, in their short sleeves
of summer, were engaged
in conversation with a trio of men
in lightly soiled flannel.
I passed the church
that seems to be perpetually
in service, the murmurs
of prayer slithered out
its open doors and windows
and married with the concerned creaking
of palm fronds pushed by
the barely existent breeze. The sun
set itself behind the hills of San Pedro
like a child putting herself to bed
and the buildings converted
themselves to silhouettes
beneath the glowing clipped toenail
of a moon. Standing on the corner
waiting to cross the street
the apartments and bodegas,
in their newfound blackness,
were so unidentifiable
I nearly forgot my own name. 










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About the Author: 
Tommy Jarrell was born and raised in Maryland. He earned his MFA at the University of California, Irvine in 2015. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Squaw Valley Review, The Hunger, Rascal, and 805. He currently lives, writes, and teaches in Los Angeles. Cover photo contributed by author.

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