Tuesday, July 9th, 2013...2:54 pm

jake st. john | in all the cities the same faces

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In All The Cities The Same Faces

I write to the same face
in every bar
to the ashtray thieves
of the street
carrying the world
on their shoulders
in old knapsacks
the ones ready
for a bottle of beer
a shot of whiskey
and a cigarette
the ones that can tear apart
an engine and rebuild it
better than before
I write to the same face
in every bar
those who have given up the news
but still read the paper for laughs
those who have loved
and those who have loved the road
I write to the man smoking
outside Lovejoy’s in Austin
before it closed its doors
to hide from the economy
I write for the teacher
working two jobs
or even three
just to afford classroom supplies
I write to the dead bodies
standing on the corner
waiting for a ride
to the graveyard
I write to the same face
in every bar
the ones that wear scars
in their eyes
and are always ready
to cut into conversation
with a knife

2 Comments

  • Dear Jake,
    I hear the nascent voice of nostalgia with a wistful truthful
    local color and international empathy of maturing memory
    in an engaging poignant poetry.
    bz niditch

  • Thanks BZ. I appreciate the compliment and taking the time to read my poem.

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