Jim Ross
Baby, Why You Gotta Sin So Good?
The shadow government have replaced
your sour cream with coconut milk, and every
time you stand, the cable disconnects. When
was the last time you saw a complete
episode of Mannix? You can’t recall.
Your solution is to go to the club and dance,
dance, dance, as if your sweat were the fey
liquor the world could sip and be appeased;
you knock back Sambuca shots to give it
that sweet yellow aftertaste. Served
over rice with a good red curry, you could
eradicate war, stop the world listening
to no-depression country, make durable
goods durable again. But the song
ends, your barstool calls, and still
your burritos taste thick with coconut.
Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Foxglove Journal, Welter, and Take 5ive, among others.
Jim Ross jumped into creative pursuits in 2015 after a rewarding public health research career in hopes of resuscitating his long-neglected right brain. With graduate degree from Howard University, in the past six years he’s published nonfiction, fiction, poetry, and photography in over 150 journals on four continents. Publications include 580 Split, Bombay Gin, Burningword, Columbia Journal, Hippocampus, Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Lunch Ticket, Manchester Review, Stonecoast, The Atlantic, and Typehouse. He’s published photo essays on such topics as street dogs and their human companions (Kestrel); the Berkeley Springs Apple Butter Festival (Litro); escaping into pilgrimage on The Way (New World Writing); and the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington (Wordpeace). He’s also published photo essays using old postcards on such topics as the Postcard Debate on Women’s Suffrage (Barren); the postal origins of text messaging (Ilanot Review); and children as refugees and asylum seekers (Palaver, forthcoming). A nonfiction piece led to appearances in a documentary limited series broadcast internationally. Jim and his wife—parents of two health professionals and grandparents of five preschoolers—split their time between city and mountains.