lost in tales told by idiots by mark james andrews
Lost in Tales Told by Idiots
a semi-truck blasting air horn broke my swing stride I would have dashed into traffic lost in tales told by idiots I make it to a side street my girl Bridge waiting on her front porch pacing reading Tristessa wearing a full black leotard cut-off jeans over it canvas combat boots copped for next to nothing the army surplus store ready to split city limits lost in tales told by idiots “Tristessa means sadness in Spanish and Portuguese” Bridge announces she striking with her new razor layered haircut auburn me having same dirty blonde she insisting do it together chill of the morning working on her body cars honking old guys yelling whistling me draping my blue jean jacket over her bare neck shoulders our bus screeching up air going from lilac to diesel just kids waking up at dawn lost in tales told by idiots
MARK JAMES ANDREWS lives and writes in Metro Detroit. His latest collection of poems is So I Lit a Fire for The Last Thanksgiving from Alien Buddha Press. He is also author of Motor City is Burning & Other Rock & Roll Poems (Gimmick Press), Compendium 20/20 (Deadly Chaps), Burning Trash (Pudding House) and a poetry recording Brylcreem Sandwich (Bandcamp). Recent and forthcoming work is in Third Wednesday, Chiron Review, Nerve Cowboy, Heroin Love Songs, and Voices from the Fire.