Juan Camillo Garza is a Mexican poet based in Brooklyn, New York, currently in Porto, Portugal. He's been at times a construction worker, factory worker, clothing salesman, and a cook — all of these inform his work. His past writing can be found in Poet Lore, The South Carolina Review, Columbia Journal, Raleigh Review, The Oakland Review, Button Poetry, Hobart Pulp, and elsewhere.
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Billboards at Night
Every night, dusk is chewed into stars, spit out as street lamps. We sink in. Bathe in its shadows.
Observe suits running out of the deep wells of high-ceilinged buildings. There are world-class
architects of wants here, they are inventing new ways to want. Their dark gifts go to work on
billboards. Lights. Desires stumbling out of too-rosy pictures on the walls. We know something
is wrong but we don’t know what to call it. We think it’s easier if we play along. We want
entertainment while the clock winds down: smell of sex, Egyptian musk, fat-simmering kabob,
oiled spices, scowls riding muscled necks, online attention. Zoo of pleasure. So many new ways
to eat, so many new ways to feel hunger.
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Image by Juan Camillo Garza
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