Two trash trucks collide
and the hairiest man I have ever
seen is arguing with the second
hairiest man I have ever seen.
They are both beautiful as the sun
curls to sleep in their curling
forearms. The intersection smells
like bad gin. You point at a car
and say tar. What I thought
I needed to survive I gin up
from nothing. You point at a cat
that isn’t there. What I thought
I needed to survive I didn’t.
Even the bricks reflect a little light.
Quinn is an O’ahu-raised poet, actor, and educator. He has poems published or forthcoming in POETRY, Pleiades, The Adroit Journal, Split Lip, Diode, and elsewhere. A Poetry Editor at Bear Review, he received his MFA from the Bennington Writing Seminars. He has received support from the McCormack Writing Center, the Saltonstall Foundation, and Community of Writers. His acting work can be seen on TV, on- and off-Broadway, and in regional theaters across the country. Quinn lives in Brooklyn.
