You Can’t Make Life Up, or Do You Want to Hear a Poem

I wonder why

it’s fiction I chose

long form fiction

when I am the short form

tell the story sort.

Yesterday the day

the guard

at the gym we have only

said hello  his name

is Mohammed when he said

as I was walking in

want to hear a poem?

It was a good poem

he wrote it  why

he can’t feel wind.

After Breena and Jessica

read last night

in the East Village

strong reading we

decided to take a LYFT car

home. We were cold. It was

late. Aziz, our driver,

gentle man from Morocco

he pulled over as we

were getting out of the cab.

My friend died a year ago.

I have 70 of his poems he said.

They’re in French.

Do you want to hear a poem?

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

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