Clapboard and salt, sweetness of gas
fish mildew and rose.
Everyone’s dressed for a jog
and on a brick driveway inlaid with grass
a shiny black jeep gets waxed.
Next to some pulp in the rented house
I find Orwell’s essays
overdue by forty-seven years
from a public library in San Antonio.
Verse complies, he says, but not honest prose.
Every man is a part of the main.
Genuflecting into screens, killing Pinot Gris,
they shout, “Build it somewhere else!”
(But never anywhere too close.)
The book’s spine splits. It goes in the trash.
V. Joshua Adams is the author of a chapbook, Cold Affections (Plan B Press, 2018). His work has appeared recently in Tupelo Quarterly, Miracle Monocle, and Typishly. A former editor of Chicago Review, he teaches literature and writing at the University of Louisville.