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Category: Poetry

POEM: the little things

the little things

Yesterday I texted you to tell you
I’d gassed up the car

The day before we talked about
joining Costco

I love it when you ask me if I
have thoughts about dinner

Or when we schlep our bags
over to the laundry building

We spot lizards along the way
or, more often, don’t

I’m not afraid to say
it’s the little things

The moments when we
finish one another’s sentences

The smell of tuna rice
(your own invention)

Text me when you get home,
OK?

/ / /

Jason Crane
20 June 2020
Tucson, AZ

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POEM: Prayer

Prayer

Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva,
I’m putting you in this poem
to sound more like Allen Ginsberg.

Kannon Bodhisattva,
I just cleaned the toilet
then looked at myself in the mirror.

Jizo Bodhisattva,
protector of travelers & children,
I am a wandering boy putting distance
between himself & his past.

I worry less about the
ten thousand things
than I used to,
but let’s not kid ourselves.

/ / /

Jason Crane
30 May 2020
Tucson, AZ

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POEM: 40 days & 40 nights

40 days & 40 nights

‘e’s nuts I tells ya
carries two unloaded 6-
shooters everywhere ‘e goes
wears spurs (like an old western
gunslinger) on his New Balance 410s
why just the other day I saw ‘im
down to the Circle K
juggling 3 Fruit Punch Gatorades
(mask & gloves on the whole time)
until the manager come out
from the little room in the back
said ‘e had to get going or
the cops’d be called
‘e left but not before putting
2 of the Gatorades back neatly
in the cooler
we have to have rules, ‘e said
& buying the other one
‘e unscrewed the cap, stepped
through the door into the desert sun
spilled a little in the parking lot & said
pouring one out for my home

/ / /

Jason Crane
10 May 2020
Tucson, AZ

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POEM: Reports Of My Death

Reports Of My Death
(for Owen)

I will most likely die
many years before you.
On some days that makes me sad.

This morning I leaned back
in my easy chair listening to
American Beauty;

46 & finally becoming a Deadhead,
years after my high school classmates
wore tie-dyes and Birks.

This afternoon I thought about your life
after me. Who you might meet next.
What people will say.

“Oh he was a lot older so they both knew
this was coming. But they were happy
while it lasted.”

On some days I worry that you
might die before me.
That is infinitely sadder.

/ / /

Jason Crane
1 May 2020
Tucson, AZ

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haiku: 28 April 2020

Cat Stevens’ voice breaks
when he sings the word “listen.”
Hummingbird flies off.

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POEM: Friday afternoon, outside our apartment

Friday afternoon, outside our apartment

little guy:
fins on helmet
training wheels

at a certain age
those’ll get you
where you need to go

old guy:
baseball cap
walker

at a certain age
there’s no hurry
to get there

/ / /

Jason Crane
17 April 2020
Tucson AZ

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