Today I had, on purpose, a boring day. No beer.
No sudden women. No blasting of overwhelming music,
no being sad that politics is the organizing
of hatreds. No visit to the savage park
where goblins meet for love and crime.

No raindrop hits the car window and me surprised by its delicate
splat. No wolf eats dead birds on the Interstate shoulder.

No pulling aside the shower curtain to tease
about the middle name. No strawberry hair alive
in the wind’s hands. No shame.

Wes Civilz lives next to a dusty cactus in Tucson, Arizona. He writes mostly poetry and nonfiction. Recent publications can be found in PANK Magazine, Entropy, decomP magazinE, and The Stockholm Review of Literature. Say hello at

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