Credit: Johnny Silvercloud via Creative Commons

Club 2718

To love like him is to be a student / of regret

Because I don’t have the juice or enough gold anything to enter, a room that occasionally exists inside of me is the poorly lit dance floor of Club 2718. Thirst is a way of knowing, not knowing. I was on a gin fueled hunt for big asses and music I could cry to. A woman almost twice my age asks where I’ve been and she shuts the door. Like any american what haunts me is my addiction to private property, not time or blackness. I want to love no one in particular the way I say I love my woman when she’s in the doorway and mad at me. There were days I believed my grandfather owned my grandmother kept her overfed and out of the sun in the back room. Occasionally a room exists inside of me where Johnny Hartman & John Coltrane’s “One and Only Love” plays on repeat. On repeat too is a video of my grandfather dancing a limber legged shuffle and singing across the wall to my grandmother. To love like him is to be a student of regret. In the abide I watch grief turn to ecstasy. I wept in the winter when I left my woman, I wept in the heat when she came back.

  • About

    Taylor Johnson is proud of being from Washington, DC. They’ve received fellowships and scholarships from Callaloo, Cave Canem, the Vermont Studio Center, Tin House, and Yaddo, among other organizations. Their work appears in, or is forthcoming from CALLALOO, the shade journal, Vinyl Poetry, Hayden's Ferry Review, Tin House, Indiana Review, Third Coast, and elsewhere. In 2017, Taylor received the Mayor’s Arts Award for Literature from the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities.