Timothy Juhl


I’m never really far from it;
the bed, the rattling air-conditioner
the hot plate and portable tv,
crumbling tile and a sallow bulb
above the bathroom sink.
A couple blocks away
at the Deauville Resort
Frank & Ava once played
Marilyn & Joe fought there too,
beneath the cabanas
between cocktails and waiters,
between photographs.
On Miami Beach in 1979
we spent afternoons high
and tan, then nights blowing
guys on Biscayne Boulevard
for rent and cab fare back
to our salty, mildewed room.
We were skinny-assed boys
playing at love and out of money.
I stole anything from Woolworth’s.
Mostly candy so we could eat,
and Vaseline so we could –
Jesus, we were just kids then.
We fucked and sucked and kissed
until the hunger was gone.
Everything was fire and hard-ons,
tricks turned and dance floors
and sweat and cigarettes and us.

Timothy Juhl lives in Delhi, Iowa on the banks of the Maquoketa River with his dog, Jack and whole symphonies of wildlife. He is currently working toward his MFA and slinging breakfast and burgers as a short-order cook surrounded by dusty farmers, full-hipped women and the ghosts of his past. His work has appeared in the New Delta Review, The Madison Review and other literary journals.

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