by Matt Mason
It’s time to just admit
I don’t speak the language.
I’ve traveled through relationships
like a man walking the Champs Elysees
wearing peach shorts and a Dallas Cowboys t-shirt
who, in each boutique, shouts:
“One. I. Want. One. Of these. Comprende?”
while seeming to pantomime the drama of fencepost digging. Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 