Ryan Hardgrove- Two Poems

 

$6.45

holes in my shoes

out of cigarettes

and only a few coins left

trudge over to the store

stack the change on the glossy counter

the clerk is very accommodating

counting the dimes and nickels

the quarters have been gone for days

and pennies are far too tragic

for spending

with no disdain

but I hate her anyway

especially when she quotes

the final figure

“looks like you have –pause- $6.45 sir”

the way she pauses is what does it

like I didn’t already count it

as if she is enlightening me

with her advanced grasp on mathematics

insane flashes of violence

pulse through my mind

if I’m using change

I’m obviously living in poverty

and if I’m living in poverty

every nickel is certainly accounted for

I know how much change I have

but I can’t be angry with the clerk

I’m really just hungry

and buying cigarettes instead of food

Soon Enough

drug addled epiphanies

poke their prairie dog heads

into my reeling cracked mind

pushing against the wall

that pushes right back

with the exact equal force

neither I nor the wall

will ever concede

scared to spend one goddamn night

alone and sober

scared of those prairie dogs

for they are filled with poisonous parasites

they thin the already thinning mind

soon, I’ll bury this affliction

but until then

keep them coming

these holy strung out epiphanies

of the afflicted prophet, me

carrying the cross of the convoluted

keep them coming

because soon will be here

soon enough

Ryan Hardgrove is a published poet.  His consciousness has grown and meandered like a weed throughout his 27 years crawling upon this rock.  He now lives in a small apartment along the Ohio River, just two miles north of Pittsburgh, PA.  When he is not writing, he is tending bar downtown or pacing on his fire escape smoking cigarettes.