poetry

everyone knows you can’t buy love, but you can still sell your soul for less than a song

For Prince…

Minneapolis is compelling enough for its abundance of parks and lakes, but all Maya visited was the airport.

Minneapolis of tulips and asters and sassy snapdragons but all Maya could see were six brands of cheap clothes from the same sweatshop

and a Dunkin’ Donuts that refused the coupon Maya was given for donating blood.

promising souls write forty years on a mortgage in Minneapolis and sign off without the faintest whisper of remorse.

and while there’s goodness in that, the main thing that stayed with Maya was the hospitality of the restrooms. washed tiles, unlike many cities who I will not name.

the tiles were yellow and the mood was mellow. a young man at the departure lounge watched Maya, but Maya had no intention to talk because he had Christmas Carol eyes and she had no intention to stay. because her ticket was yellow and the mood was mellow.

©Daniel, 2024

Check out my poetry book “Facial Features” here:

Another poem by Daniel: