Victorville
Peter Bogart Johnson currently works as a grant-writer for a New York City non-profit, and also co-edits the journal LIT. He holds an MFA from The New School, and his work has appeared in I do this, I do that and in the chapbook anthology Earshot: the First Offenders. He lives in Brooklyn with his wife.
A desert ridge over a red roof inn. Day old typewriter, dried up orange juice. Bob's Big Boy, a thermometer. A clean, clean street. A backyard that goes and goes. Irrigation ditch. A tree out of nowhere. A car park and a light bulb store. Street racing and low cloud cover. A jet test. A water park. Snakebites. Lovingly held walkmans. Lovingly stroked velour. Foreign smog. A road to your house, a road over the hill. Long dips in the pool. Long dips between bulwarks and Yucca. A decent price for electricity. Air conditioning before lunch in the yard. Aluminum and stucco over the pool. A bright light, no tunnel. An onramp. A concrete divider. An onramp. Action movies, 32 oz's. A dusty sidewalk. It's dry heat, anyway. A subcontract for garbage disposal. A neon nameplate.
Peter Bogart Johnson currently works as a grant-writer for a New York City non-profit, and also co-edits the journal LIT. He holds an MFA from The New School, and his work has appeared in I do this, I do that and in the chapbook anthology Earshot: the First Offenders. He lives in Brooklyn with his wife.
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