Sunday, October 6, 2013

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.

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