Blocked Aisles By James Caldwell

​Blocked Aisles


On weekends young yogis invade food lion
Kneeling in rapture by the craft beer singles
The crane with raised leg seeking the fish
It has never tried seeking its essence
Stealing my little peace by the foil

On a warm winter day the mats stowed away
They sit on the patio facing park road
As real wood fires the pizza and herbs
Are withered in their organic wooden boxes
Traffic backs as they must communicate

Where is Stevie Ray and the smell of Panama?
Where is the redneck girl bumming a cig
On the bleachers where is a woman o where
Is my life not in the banned grill not in the dead band
Not in my garden of roses and weeds


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Bio: James is a poet from Charlotte, NC, who used to go by Bob but then his life went all to hell. He used to make his living cleaning swimming pools, which one can do while high. Then he aged out of the profession, and now grows flowers in his mother's back yard.