Tropic of Tedium By Brenton Booth

Too tired to sleep.

Finally home from

my tedious blue-

collar job, following

another exhausting

twelve-hour shift,

with almost four-

hours travel time

on an overcrowded

train deodorized by

vomit and failure.

Drinking whiskey

and cola, attempting

to write poetry.

Henry Miller coming

through with sparkling

clarity on my old

wireless headphones,

saying, all the Gods

and leaders are gone

for modern man. It

is up to each of

us to save ourselves.

I quickly swallow

the last of the whiskey.

Spontaneously filling

several pages with

a fresh, unexpected

grin. Picturing Henry

Miller authoritatively

peering from the

opposite corner of

the bright, suddenly

impelled room. Thick

New York accent.

Joyfully declaring:

"Someone is finally

fucking listening!"

Brenton Booth lives in Sydney, Australia. Poetry of his has appeared in Gargoyle, New York Quarterly, North Dakota Quarterly, Chiron Review, Main Street Rag, Naugatuck River Review, Heavy Feather Review, and Nerve Cowboy. He has two full length collections available from Epic Rites Press.