Poetry
Jeanna Stegman
Jack's Tristessa
I caught him on the corner of lonely street
On a curb of desire.
Rain cascading through shafts of light
I WANT HER like a morphine moan he cried
I watched as the ache trickled from him like a
bleeding wound
Into the gutterless street
But she is full of the Mexican madness
With chili peppers and Chihuahuas dancing in her
delicate hands.
Then his smile goes limp and his eyes distract to the
dawn.
He watched his frail Tristessa fall petal by petal
To the harsh reality of this world.
Smoke dances upward
In a pungent halo atop his wet hair.
He does a tap dance for her
Shakes his shoulders
Tips his hat to the fair Tristessa
And bows to kiss the ground
She walks upon.
