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Showing posts from October, 2017

Traffic I, a poem by Patrick Valdez

Each night I stand in the window of my second floor apartment
and I look down onto the street and ask myself,
just how bad can people be at parallel parking?
But before I can answer the question,
I am overwhelmed by the self-entitlement that is reflected
by the way people have chosen to park their vehicles,
on my street.
The utter lack of regard that is displayed
in the name of personal convenience and I am angry,
and powerless
yet I continue to seek a resolution to this conflict
on my street.
by Patrick Valdez

Nice Ride Minnesota by Patrick Valdez

The green bikes rolling.
Cycling in the Twin Cities.
A Nice Ride to share.

by Patrick Valdez

Narrative Poem: Morning After by Patrick Valdez

My head is aching and I know that its from too much cheap bourbon from the night before. 
I'm sprawled out on an old leather club chair.
Wearing nothing but my boxer shorts and a tank top and both are filthy with dried liquor and my own piss. 
Think about that for a moment. 
I stink of alcohol and stale cigar smoke and I am not at home.  As I glance around I find myself in a small office. 
The windows are floor to ceiling and covered with old newspaper.  The light coming through the tears is cold and grey. 
It is still early morning and I am think I am someplace downtown because that is where I was the night before.
Alone.

by Patrick Valdez