This matches the atmosphere of pre-pandemic Ineffable Cà Phê– 

seated at a mahogany table stealing vibes from strangers. Ahead: 

a Jennifer Lawrence doppelgänger wearing monotone, who types 

quietly in a portrait mode of cedar wall & soft lights, spooning phở; 

next table over, prospective homebuyers: a Kyle Wolff in 

a psychedelic Dixie Cup shirt alongside his partner, crumpled over 

with a realtor who holds printed-out pages of wanted foundations. 

The agent leaves and they scroll Zillow; there is a void where you 

used to be; October sixty degrees spent inside, no regrets this 

Halloweekend. I spy on everyone. Nebby is what Pittsburgh calls it.

I look up to see a white bowl covering a face, noodles dangling 

off lips chased with chop sticks. The amber light’s flatness inspires. 

Indie Interpol playlist a throwback to spending days at Muggswiggz 

in Canton with Tony, soliciting strangers on Myspace for randomness. 

I haven’t changed as much as I wanted. Crumbs from the bread 

of my chicken bánh mì, scattered across my laptop. I swipe them 

away, but dislodge more in the keys the longer I type. 

---

James Croal Jackson is a Filipino-American poet who works in film production. His latest chapbooks are A God You Believed In (Pinhole Poetry, 2023) and Count Seeds With Me (Ethel Zine & Micro-Press, 2022). Recent poems are in Packingtown Review, JONAH Magazine, and ONE ART. He edits The Mantle Poetry from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

web: www.jamescroaljackson.com | instagram: @jamescroaljackson