Another New Orleans Sonnet
Chronic, literally, everything, ok?
A trash bin stuffed with literary mags
A pensive girl at the end of the bar
A cat slinking under rickety stools
A notepad crammed with illegible scrawl
Chronic, runaway fancies, pulsing ache
Shocks of optimism, zings of numbness
One dumb ass metaphor puts it like this:
“The Spine of Society out of whack”
While the pensive girl slides out of the bar
As the slinky cat rambles out of sight
As the lonesome notepad sloshily roars
As the mags snuggle into their landfill
It’s chronic alright, the whole effin’ deal
—Rodrigo Toscano
illustration by Happy Burbeck
