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Woodland Pattern™    Book   Center Poetry Archive		John Sierpinski John Sierpinski grew up on the near south side of Milwaukee. Later he lived in San Francisco, Santa Monica and Venice, California. Currently, he's driving truck, listening to public radio, and thinking about poetry. John has studied writing at UW-Milwaukee and Marquette University, and poetry at the Iowa Writers Workshop and at the Vest Conservatory for Writers. He has been published in literary magazines from California Quarterly to North Coast Review.

After John Sierpinski

After the dance, after the breakfast (you only drank diet coke) after Rick Kramer left (but not before he made a pass at you) we stand in the parking lot. Rain. You wear a white dress with black polka dots, and your black hair. Each of us holds an umbrella. You are the manager of a bank whose right hand is attached to money. I live in a truck, and think in abstractions. An hour ago, when we danced you said, "He's a compulsive liar. I might tell you more, sometime." I touch the string of your lower vertabrae. You are unknown. Cold, rain. Water ribbons. Your hair brushes my face. Your dark eyeliner has streaked. You tense before you pull away. Then a car jerks toward us. We have to move back. Headlights splash our separate paths.

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