A poem by Brandel France de Bravo
“Returns & Exchanges” by Brandel France de Bravo I’ve been in and out of stores shopping for a metaphor but can’t find what I’m looking for. You say: My joints hurt. I say: You need a new roof. You say: I can’t swallow. I say: You’re behind on your payments. You say: I’m out of breath. I say: the Bank wants it back. You say: I can’t feel my toes. I say: Let’s fill the john with cement mix and storm out to the applause of the half-hinged screen door. It turns out foreclosure wasn’t what I wanted. The customer is always. With a credit to my account I’m driving on an eight-lane highway, faster than the speed limit, semis like linebackers on either side. You say: My joints hurt. I say: None of the stations are coming in. You say: I can’t swallow. I say: Adjust the sun visor. You say: I’m out of breath. I say: look for a rest stop. You say: I can’t feel my toes. I say: Something’s trying to pass us. We both can sense it in the blin...
