J.R. Wilkerson

“a perfect stranger”

he roams the land
he rambles through the crowd
the barbecues
the eyeglass shops
the little leagues
from parts unknown, you couldn’t pick him
from a lineup, he says hey
how ‘bout i show youhow to work that with
the smoker then you taste and bada-bing
the angels sing
he draws in near
he whispers in your ear
mm hmm
mm hmm
those frames they are so butch, but not so much
those granny glasses
you were trying on, he tracks
you down as bold as brass, is
that your kid
that bat’s too big
you ought to get a new one so
you seek one in your shame, sign up
for the customer account just
for a consultation with the bat guy
two weeks later it’s a miracle, a marvel
to behold, kid gets a hit, the winning hit
his name, the crowd was chanting, all
his life forever altered by
the little leagues
the eyeglass shops
the barbecues
he rambles through the crowd
he roams the land

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J.R. Wilkerson is a DC-area resident by way of Lawrenceburg, Missouri. His peculiar scribblins have been featured in Roi Fainéant Press and Voidspace. Twitter (X) handle: @auxarcois

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