Tag: America

Tijuana Exodus & Old Tricks in San Diego

~ johnbrandall ~ 1 Comment

13:04. I'm in my room, 1415, at the Westin San Diego. This is two hours in the room I didn't think I'd have. Because check-in isn't until three o'clock. I'm grateful.

I've looked at myself in the mirror. I look rough! My cheeks are approaching brick red, or burgundy. I stink!

First order of business is a full-on shower. Then some walkin' around, looking perhaps for a notebook store. Then I'm going to that burrito place I went to a year ago. I'm-a get two burritos, one for this afternoon, one for dinner...


Continue with this short travel essay...

Advice for Endangered Species

~ johnbrandall ~ Leave a comment

   The ruddy turnstone of America
       died before my eyes.   This
    poem is inspired by
           but not about her.

     I tried to convince the great libraries
     to pump me full of rotten fruit.
     I tried and died?
     No I tried and failed.

  NASCAR cars awake to find themselves
  empty of engines but slathered in spit and lipstick.
      The Vice Presidents have all
      gone to pasture, revving
      like Alzheimer cows.

Meanwhile, on the North Slopes...
  The polar bears are all dead,
   even the ones we've eaten. The polar bears are all dead,
   even the ones we've eaten. The polar bears are all dead,
   even the ones we've eaten. The polar bears are all dead,

        I admit
        it's late and I don't know
        who to vote for.

 Sunrise in my eyes, coffee and rubles.
 This is the American Dream.

Please wait while I await another line.