Featured poet Justin W. Thompson, from the Fall/Winter 2011 issue

Bio: Justin Wade Thompson was born in New Braunfels,Texas and currently lives, humbly, in a trailer park, in the capital city ofAustin. He has never pursued a higher education, career, or full-time employment.)

My Six Dollar Buddha

my six dollar Buddha won't help
me find enlightenment
and I'll most likely get sick
even though I've filled my
coffee mug
with vitamins

I stole this mug
from a jewish
guy
in an
all-night
diner

I think I've told you this story before
or maybe it was a dead poet-friend I told

or an immortal god
that most everyone's forgotten about
all ready.

some girl called me
just after 8P.M.
and said she's done with her last beer

and what good
does that do me?

I don't need her company
I don't need her rambling
or her advice

I don't even need solitude
but it's there
and I embrace it
    (and the night).

my eyes kiss the light above my head
and I can't help but
  hear the hounds outside my window

 maybe it's just the wind
or the highway nearby

my six dollar Buddha has a sour look

I know that that means something
but I don't remember now.

Maybe it's just the angle
or the light
or just how I feel at this moment.

  I get a second phone call
and when I answer it I can hear my
own voice
over the silence
  on the other end

and then I disappear.

Mr Quick

he didn't need anything

he wasn't late
  or waiting for anything

just watching everyone else
drink their coffee

looking at their watches
and waiting

waiting on their wives
waiting to go to work
waiting to go home
waiting for something
waiting for death

he didn't need anything

put on a red coat
and walked down
  to the bridge over the lake

put on his black shoes
and walked past
  the grocery store

put on his Stetson
and played death

like a squeeze box
like the ribs of
      a fish,(pescado)

with a hickory stick
kicking an empty soda can
    down the sidewalk

while the others were waiting

waiting on the bus
waiting in traffic
waiting for a break
waiting for something
waiting for death.

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