Glory Days by Jesse Littlejohn

Glory Days

My god, I have no one left.
I use payphones.

*

I will ask for life
from the branches of a tree
on an abandoned street
where an old woman with a shopping cart
sells masks and streamers for a child’s party

*

When I saw
the little station wagon shape of it
the lilt of it
that set the meeting place
and set the hour
 
I wanted to know
if you had survived
I wanted to remember how you are
I wanted to know
if you had heard the slander
if you believed what I believe about the lie
 
For my part
I don’t know
I don’t remember
 
*
 
I look terrible though – eating too much grease
taking shots at the tin cans in the driveway
picking locked cabinets for a taste of chocolate rum
watching loose parabolas of shine
 
long after the ebb has pinnacled
long after the crown has crowned

Jesse Littlejohn lives in New Jersey. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Washington Square Review, The Iowa Review, DIAGRAM, and elsewhere. 

7 July 2025