Jerome Walks


Jerome walks.


His mother was beautiful and so he searches for beauty.


For the young this is never hard.


(Moon-cast shadows, cat’s eye marbles, purple plums.

Rita in the summer of ‘74 ascending.)


But later, beauty hides. More often than not, Jerome finds only its opposite.


(Faces turned away, barely concealed laughter, fists clenched.

Doreen in the winter of ’82, descending.)


What he wants more than anything is to come home again.


And this, while simple for some, is impossible for others.




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