A POEM by GAVIN GARZA

Parker

Beer drinkers make great lovers said a license plate frame

to the back of a drive-thru breadline.

I parked the car, and I heard you say I’m not an alcoholic

if I don’t black out. And that’s when I knew

you unfolded, even if your tongue ran circles ‘round the point.

Even though I have not yet written, I know how long you have searched

screamed Soul Glo from the back of our system.

You spat an empty threat before ripping your pen.

Don’t mistake my patience for meekness—

I wore your boots through the must of your liver.

Men act out again and again to test their partner's love.

bell hooks.

It’s happy hour. Your turtle neck is drooping.

And you wish to be lucid;

and you wish to be vulnerable.

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Gavin Garza (he/him) is a bicultural Chicano poet, writing tutor, and transfer student hungry for upper-division. Raised in IBLP, a non-denominational Christian cult, he is currently recovering in Fresno, California. His work has been featured, or is forthcoming, in MudRoom, Eucalyptus Lit, Flies, Cockroaches, and Poets, and elsewhere. Garza can be found sharing his cat and Spotify rotation @anoldsoulsong on Instagram.