3 poems by Phillip Larrea

Unclear on the Concept

Healthy Human

Department sent

Me a debit

Card with which to

Buy any cure

For what ails me.

I had not so

Much as an egg

Yolk to my name.

Naturally

I brought a flat

Of bright yellow

Geraniums

To the counter

Who politely

Informed me that

Flowers do not

Constitute a

Qualified sale.

Clearly I am

Unclear on the

Concept of what

Makes a human

Being healthy.

 

Minor Leaguer

This superbly coiffed headhunter

Haute couture in suitably severe

Garb which does not disguise her swells

Asks me what I have been doing all these years.

 

“I have made my living

In lumber,” I begin.

“I’m something of an expert.”

 

(Sitting on benches, I should say).

 

Spent

My youth was wasted- not misspent-

Though I did spend it mightily,

Important papers misplaced..

A profligate son unrepentant

For all my head-long blunders.

What now would I do in this age

With any paltry interest accrued

From some prior frugality?

Can life be saved by not living,

 

Or would such a life be squandered?

 

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Jeremiah Walton

Jeremiah Walton is wary of writing a bio.

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