One Poem by John Harold Olson

 

7 and Albatross 

 

It was snowing 

And I had to meet a guy at 6am at dead end Thyme street off Albatross next to the vacant used car lot, right below 7.

 

Meet a guy who worked on the street crew, 

a guy who was putting in one of my jobs. 

 

He sounded concerned. 

 

 “Urgent”, he said. 

 

When we hung up, I had a drink and went to bed. 

 

“I brought coffee,” I said, getting into his car. 

 

“You sales guys always deploy the refreshments. Why is that?”

 

“To mask the murderous vibe of the meeting,” I said. 

 

“You said it,” he said. “Those fucking guys’ heads were spinning around. You lipped off to mob guys. Jesus, all that fruit on the table. Are you crazy?”  

 

“So, why are we here?”

 

 “I think I talked them out of killing you. The only reason you walked out of there was you were signed out to that trailer.” 

 

“Thanks for saving my life.” 

 

“You don’t get it. You might be in trouble.”

 

“Life is trouble. But really, thanks.” 

 

“You’re welcome.” 

 

 Snow at 6, and the holidays have passed.

John Harold Olson - Is a retired Special Education teacher in Las Vegas. Transitioning to being a hospice volunteer.