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Column 827

Tonight

01.25.2021

This week’s col­umn is by Ladan Osman, who is orig­i­nal­ly from Soma­lia but who now lives in Chica­go. I like Tonight” for the way it looks with clear eyes at one of the rough edges of Amer­i­can life, then greets us with a hope­ful wave.

Editor’s Note: This col­umn (336) is a reprint from the Amer­i­can Life in Poet­ry archive as we bid farewell to Ted Koos­er, and work to final­ize the new web­site and forth­com­ing columns curat­ed by Kwame Dawes.

Tonight

Tonight is a drunk man,
his dirty shirt.

There is no couple chatting by the recycling bins,
offering to help me unload my plastics.

There is not even the black and white cat
that balances elegantly on the lip of the dumpster.

There is only the smell of sour breath. Sweat on the collar of my shirt.
A water bottle rolling under a car.
Me in my too-small pajama pants stacking juice jugs on neighbors’ juice jugs.

I look to see if there is someone drinking on their balcony.

I tell myself I will wave.

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Disclaimer

We do not accept unsolicited submissions

We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2010 by Ladan Osman, and reprinted by permission of the poet. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.