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i found a silver pearled brooch on the sidewalk
as cold wind stung my face
i laughed when some passing mercedes
drove into a stop sign
i stay up late doing push-ups
and ask the ground  
what does your heart whisper
when you order mcdonalds at 2am?

i am splitting apart at the seams
there is so much goodness
and so much grace
how beautiful is perversion
how humbled we are by pity
how much work there is to be done
how powerful are we still

order and
foolishness
acrimony
and exoneration and
so much disarray

your talk of those in vans
being hauled away
and my memories too
of fighter jets and the black wing of history
and this is still without mentioning  
the octagonal concrete structures
that hold many and loom under the sun

in the future
a dark blue ocean crushes
manhattan’s real estate
we smile and
put our hands up
they’re playing our song
its a party in the USA

beach town taco bell 

we walked miles that day without eating so touched by 
the pacific and what was grand and never changing
and although we were watched by 
the property fanatics of whole foods and third wave coffee shops 
i enjoyed the corner we made
discussing water
and how we came to be 
what we are now

one day i will cut off my toes
and plant them onto the beach 
they’ll grow into large trees
and block the great views of 
everyone’s beachfront property 

Nolan Perla-Ward is a writer and translator living in New York City. You can find his writing at Maudlin House, Hobart, Freedom Arts Press, and other places.