Wednesday, May 30, 2012


Poems lurk around every corner
In the shape of street scenes
That, at times, are so bizarre
Nobody in their right mind
Could even make them up

Poems sit unwritten
On every bus stop bench
Next to indigents
And other outsiders
Who’ve lost track
Of just how they got there

Poems wait with bated breath
For a canvas
Like welfare mothers
Anticipating monthly relief checks

Poems breathe inside every factory
Between the assembly line
And the time clock
Where toilers wait in earnest
To punch out

Poems linger
On wringing wet collars
Like fleas hiding
On an old hound dog,
But appear in living color
When the itch gets scratched

Poems tumble
In strip mall Laundromats
On hard plastic chairs
And the sound of quarters
Being forced into machines
Paves the way for another line.

About Michael N. Thompson:
Michael N. Thompson is the author of the poetry collections Dancing Inside The Mouth Of Madness, This Hollow Pierces and Verbal Alchemy. He has also been published in various literary journals. After barely surviving the death of hair metal, numerous riots and the occasional earthquake in Los Angeles, Michael packed up his significant other and his cats in 2008 for his hometown of  San Francisco where he can now cheer relentlessly for his beloved 49ers and Giants without consequence.

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