The Old Men Of Octavia Street
It is death by apartment: the papers
lodged in throats of entrance ways,
a stolen car ditched by the olive tree
that scrapes like memory against the eaves.
Washed in sunlight, neighbors pass by
hung over and swatting at the flies,
the wispy hair of old men adrift
like white sails moving away uphill.
Gary Sloboda currentlly lives in San Francisco with his wife and two cats, and works there in the legal field. Recently, he's published poems in Rattle, The Journal (UK), and Rumble, and has a poem coming out in Whimperbang.