John Zedolik

Even the long-incarcerated need adequate vision care, so don’t bat an eye when a stern sort in uniform escorts an elderly gentleman in orange to his shoes, wrists and ankles shackled, chains tinkling across the carpet and its office quiet to a room unseen to the sitters who wait in phones, magazines, and leisure only

I’m standing in a pumpkin patch on Friday morning, watching some rot even though I can’t perceive the progress to the blackening, to the bottomless depression, and the crawling scavengers enjoying the pulp while I ponder the significance of being here at 10:30 a.m. in October without work, esteem, or income, still like these gourds