Golden age strikes again with a shiny baseball used for the season opening pitch at ghetto stadium east coast franchise. Man that’s a sharp hi-hat, I can feel it in my Joad bones. I took a month to travel to California and lived in wal-mart parking lots along the way. Way out west they’d say and repeat an eye-roll phrase or proverb for good luck or lucky wisdom. Solomon didn’t have tinder, that’s why he didn’t figure things out quicker. Quickly make time between Glacier National Park and Seattle but include a wifi break at an Idahoan coffee shop. Shop talk with a young barista who competed in a bike race about an hour from my old hometown. Home is the view of the night plains thunderstorm from my tinted back window. Win at all costs so I smile and nod and hand the ball to the ump distracted by the celebrity pitcher with bleached hair and teeth shining brighter than gold.
ryan meyer art rapid prose poem 1