Matador Review

A Quarterly Missive of Alternative Concern

Miles Griffis



It's hard to believe this bottle came all the way from a stupid little valley in France

across the pond, to the Vietnamese owned store next to the Kum & Go.

This is the champagne they drink at parties in sequined dresses & sharp black tie

or the type rappers drink from like milk cartons, poolside with large butted women

but here it is in the refrigerator & here we are drawing a bubble bath for two

with a serum made from chemicals in America but mixed in Laos & sent right back.

It's hard to believe that he's here in this bathroom naked popping the cork,

that through an armful of bad dates of criers & claws & fake online profiles

I found him next to me in a trough urinal peeping at me pee clear beer

but here we are a year later in a bathtub like boys after muddy backyard play

making beards out of bubbles & pouring five star champagne into our mouths.

It's hard to believe that warm water keeps coming out of the faucet from aquifers

deep down & despite our nakedness & virility neither of us came in the suds

that despite his round butted­ness we dozed in a tinsy tub made out of the world

& woke up in it lukewarm, bubbleless, dizzy & completely motherless.

Miles Griffis believes in filling the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run. He spends his time in the high altitudes of rocky mountains on foot or ski and low in valley cafes writing what he wishes to read. He is a prose writer, poet, audio essayist and journalist. He is inspired by brave voices. Find his writings at: