11.2 (Winter 2007)   The 2River View   AuthorsPoemsPDFPast Issues2River

Jeffrey Calhoun

Sandman finds sanctuary

He did not know how the brawl began.
He had sat at the bar to drink alone
when the fists piled on him
like the deep snow drifts that dot Detroit.
He was no weakling: he plowed
through drunk bodies like a bulldozer.
The asphalt of the street was still warm
and as he wandered, he remembered:
someone with charisma that spread
like a wildfire in Albuquerque
had rallied the patrons against him.
Behind him, headlights were approaching
and familiar forlorn screams grew in volume.
Just then he learned to appreciate the squid,
how it manufactured ink to avoid becoming lunch.


Sandman stumbles upon a crime scene

There is a boy in a black bag.
A cop dad loses composure;
the captain barks, doesn't realize
he is berating the father. Yellow tape
is strewn everywhere like it's a party.
A drunk man tries to snort the chalk outline.
A rookie paramedic vomits. Some water pools
on Sandman's face; he has never cried before,
but the sympathetic glance of a woman
tells him he needs to do this more often.


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