These Days by Nico came on the radio
and I think of Margo Tennenbaum
fingers that smell like old smoke
and a profound acceptance of death
I remember how I aspired to lose myself
back when the music carried a promise
of a better future
and flashes of a world I wanted
I thought New York City
and living like Hemingway in Europe
were going to fix me
I wanted cheap foreign wine-drinking
sex with the balcony open at noon
and a shrapnel wound that gave me character
It’s almost too painful to listen to it now
I don’t know that person
this one is a coward
Wallace Mack’s work has appeared in Expat Press, Apocalypse Confidential, and Spectra Poets. He is the author of the novel Corndog Zen and the poetry collection PURE YOUTH.