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Postcards from Charlottesville

By Stephen Sossaman

A ghazal

Some postcards lie with I wish you were here.

This states sincerely my wish you were here.

My sudden sadness in Jefferson Park?

Twilight birdsong is why. Wish you were here.

Outside the Cuban Café, lonely girls

flirt with that Tarot guy. Wish you were here.

Tapas at Ḿás are rich, salty, earthy,

some smoky, like your sigh. Wish you were here.

This gallery show? Sad amateur art.

They all lack your fine eye. Wish you were here.

Here’s Lee Park. Lee and his horse ignored me

whenever I walked by. Wish you were here.

Java Java chatter? I only hear

espresso makers cry wish you were here.

These Blue Ridge Mountains and Stephen would please

you forever, wish by wish, were you here.


Stephen Sossaman is the author of Writing Your First Play (Pearson), and poems and stories published in such journals as Paris Review, Southern Humanities Review, and Military Review. He is Professor Emeritus at Westfield State University in Massachusetts, and lives in Burbank, California.

Categories

Poetry, The River

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