Verdad Magazine Volume 22
Spring 2017, Volume 22
Poetry by Taylor Napolsky
Further Away
The epigram once emblazoned on the front
of the t-shirt withered and peeled. All the kids
let out of school have been picked up
by their moms and dads, after standing
where they were told to wait. Hi.
I used to talk to my dad playing a
fake character in the car, my eyes
out the passenger window, he playing a trick.
And I get rid of my old skater clothes.
I get rid of my journals from my twenties.
I’d turn to him and he’d stop.
My room’s a configuration
of waving them down, and pouring
Cherry Coke into a deep glass,
and smoke on Mom’s
leather jacket. I look
the other way again: go.
It’s a life of advancing arms,
of petting and hugging, and
limitless, acute interactions. The
ways we intervene on one another.
BIO: Taylor Napolsky's work has appeared in Really System, Small Po[r]tions, decomP, and others. He lives in Seattle. Visit him on Twitter @taylornapolsky.