I Have A Friend
I have a friend who, amongst steelworks and supermarkets and an hourly bus, cut herself a husk and has been building retaining walls ever since
I have a friend who, in the litter flowing down the gutter, sees a river reflecting electric neon. Who does not smell the oil spreading slick in those first few seconds of rain
I have a friend who talks in tongues of film noir detectives, entangled in persecution narratives, the narcotics numbing the necrosis until they can’t
I have a friend submerged, an occasional wave within an otherwise glassy bay. I rest on the sand, waiting
I have a friend who is Not A Hugger, but who wrestles to feel the strain of another’s muscle and skin encasing their own
I have a friend in retrospect, an enemy at the time, a reflection in the mirror and a shadow trailing behind.
I Have Learned
by Andy Palasciano
I have learned that a sail has to be empty to catch the wind. I have learned that I cannot direct the direction a conversation will go any more than I can control the direction the wind will blow. I have learned that I cannot teach myself anything. And the children I taught when I was a Substitute Teacher showed me I cannot teach anyone else either. If learning is remembering, Substitute Teaching made me and those I attempted to teach want to forget.