Sometimes, life is really good
Sometimes, life is really good.
A warm and sunny late spring early evening.
The roof is the perfect place to have a beer. Overlooking
the neighborhood, all its peoples,
The massive tree at the edge of the parking lot looks fuller
from up here, two red birds flirt
among its branches.
The church bell’s ring, across the railroad, rings a little clearer
from this height. Street noise a faint but intermittent hum.
The fire truck’s siren echoes on all sides; two of them.
converging towards an unknown point;
yet the echo still trembles through the air, song birds
sing for each other, awaiting their meeting.
Tiny tears in the awning look like stars
Shedding cloth and cloak for heaven’s
Even the rain falls through it like angelic
drops of joy
that is the way that the tears in the awning
of the tears in my self that need to be mended,
rain washes it all away.
Frank G. Karioris (he/they/him/them) is a writer and educator based in Pittsburgh whose writing addresses issues of friendship, masculinity, sexuality, and gender. Their work has appeared in wide ranging publications, including the Hong Kong Review of Books, Burning House Press, Truth-Out, Chantarelle’s Notebook, Maudlin House, and the Berlin Review of Books.