THE INDIGO

by Steven Gray


They move in the air like snakes, their arms turn to smoke and the crowd gets hot. The blood in their veins is mixed with rose sweat, the sweet oil you rub on your skin, and fruit from the trees. They are trained to move on cue and give us a clue about what’s what, if not who’s who. One of them takes the stage with bands on her wrists, wealth in her heart, and life in her glands. She walks on the facts of life like hot coals and smiles.

They wear b... read more

Missionaries


On Mission Street the characters are lurking
on the sidewalk as you’re walking by,
a furtive fellow whispers, out of work,
he sells a pharmaceutic dream, a “lie
that tells the truth”. I’ve had reality checks
from chemicals that would have killed a horse.
Without our crutches we are nervous wrecks,
the compromises throwing you off course.
The addicts and the criminals are rubbing
shoulders with the down and out Hispanics,
living one day at a time and robbing
us a... read more