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Colorado Quarterly Magazine 

"Rewriting the Myths, Redefining the Realities"


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I Am The Camera

By Freddy Bosco

There is a haze in the valley today;

Too many are too good to ride the bus.

Got to have my ride to myself.

A few drops of Dr. Pepper roll

In a bottle in the aisle of the RTD.

Thirsty as I am I decline;

Someone has poisoned the world.

I must keep up my guard.

I watch the architecture roll past.

I reflect how poorly we house ourselves.

What I’m doing here is my mystery.

All I seem to be doing is chalking up history.




By Alice K. Sims

Barely awake, groping for side of bed;

I hit a metal railing.

Panicky – not at home –

Groping around, I hit something.

A voice asks, “What do you need?”

“Where am I – I need to get up, to go
to the bathroom.”

A long time passes – I feel warm
wetness under me.

Someone is putting down the side
railing, assisting me to arise;

Grumbling, “Should have called me earlier.”

“Where am I – I want to go home.”

“This is Sunny View Nursing Home;
This is your home now.”

“No – not MY home.”

Sitting in a chair, waiting as my
bedding is being changed,

I remember – was it yesterday?

Someone came – said something
about Olmstead – rhymes with homestead –

And about going home – MY home.

Not nursing home.


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