My Father’s Business Coupe
By John Sangster
It had its comforts.
Beneath the seat, a pint of Old-Granddad
in a brown paper sack.
Behind the seat, a bag of peanuts
shells and all.
Author Archive
When I Knew the Makes and Models
By John Sangster
I could walk down Hamlin street,
name them all: 1939 Lincoln Zephyr,
`41 Chevrolet Special Deluxe Coupe.
A boy, ten years old,
alone in his world of cars.
Comeona’ My Kitchen
By John Sangster
Push back the chrome dinette.
Slow dance on my linoleum
(clock radio knows the hits).
Tonight we cookin’.
Flat Poem
By John Sangster
This the
Flat-ass truth. Cruisin’ down
Flatbush when Boom!
Flat tire. Gets out, hears music—third-floor
Guitar Propped Upright in My Study Corner
By John Sangster
Mother’s violin waits in the attic,
wondering if it remembers how to sing.
Father’s songs (It meant he was happy)
hang in the air.
