Boston boy, Seattle town
Sad clown in frown town.
Walking through the acid stained streets.
Sitting in a room with cigarette
Listening to Astronautilis
This is Our Science.
Listening to the silence
In the shadowy peaks.
Occasional sirens.
Zoned out.
Take a few deep breaths.
Inhale, exhale repeat,
coughing catch and release.
The pyramid halls,
The book of longing,
The sentence of life
for the pillars of song.
The crowded streets part ways
And it’s homeless kids
And banged out vets
By the throwing fish.
The tourist trap, the fresh produce
The Pikes Peak
fresh ocean seas.
The smell of trees in graffiti streets.
My nicotine stained fingertips catch cold freeze.
The Puget Sound.

Frisky submariners with space needles.
Freezing sub speakers
the Starbucked tourists.
Music in the market.
Met a cat inside bought a cool Tee-shirt,
True artisan shit.
Coffee and bleach.
Told him about Oddball Magazine.
And the gallery.
Said keep in touch, much love.
Turned back down the tweaker
Till I turned my sneaks,
to the crooked concrete.
Bought Danish swag.
And gave two smokes to the sun.
From keep it tourist
To keep it moving.
Beautiful city Boston Bruin.
Red eyed flighted
Wicked tired.
I like this city
But I’m going back.
To the cab stand
And back to the plane.
Back to the Bean,
But right now I’m going
to breathe in some nicotine.


Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.