Author: Jeffrey Winke

mannequin faces
a cosmetic counter woman
offers a spritz

gas drilling rig
rasp of frogs
near the porta-potty

amish friendship bread
hint of cinnamon
in her kiss

dry shadow
under the parked white car —
spring downpour

five up, two over
somebody stares out
that window

first rain
the bright colors
of her summer top

eyelash moon
the cobalt sky holds
her silence

trying not to look
again, she adjusts
her blouse v

first rain
the bright colors
of her summer top

early sun —
the red-wing glides
into shade

off season
the fair grounds
filled with wind

morning paper
scrolling down the page
to click on More

late sun
a dandelion wisp floats
into shade

frenetic day
outside my office window
clouds slowly drift

pitch black
moving toward her lips. . .
I kiss her nose

furnace man –
his soft grumble
as he tunes the boiler

cold autumn rain
the red EAT sign’s
soft neon hum

misty eve
a neighbor’s dog
gives a long howl

late summer
descending into her jeans
a celtic tattoo

my grandfather’s portrait
recognizing that look
in my daughter

noon rush
trying not to notice
the waitress’ mole

the long walk
her hand finds
mine

50’s photo
her atomic breasts point
to the future

pale puddles
sound of an air wrench
from the open garage

gray rain
in the park custodian’s truck
trays of pink geraniums

lakeside diner
a tipped over picnic table
encased in ice

dusting of snow
a sparrow’s footprints
every which way

faint autumn moon
a sheet of newspaper
crumpled by the wind

late sunrise
a walnut rolls . . .
down a roof

dark mist
a raccoon silently slips into
the dumpster