"Goons" -- "Dinner Stop" -- "Detox"
Goons
Eclectic,
collective and full of fear,
do you know any other limericks
we can
sing while we drink
ourselves to death.
The mahogany
bar with the stool
just right, a squeaky swivel at just
the best
height. Come over here
and let me feed you another piece
of broken
glass. Can't I just
have that stench sweated shirt
and ball it into a
rat nest. What happened
to those blonde curls that chained
me with
those velcro promises.
Dirty nails; lipstick smeared on your
face.
Who do we see now when
we look passed the peanuts on a rack,
the
bottles filled with amber glue.
Connective,
corrective and spit in your ear,
do you know of any other rhymes
we
can sing while we think
ourselves to death.
Dinner Stop
The high peaks
are buildings
in dry light. There are cacti--
Roadside. Near: RED:
Blue.
The pulsating strip with its ray
coming a needle in my vein.
Hot, humid air.
My cowboy boots make no dust--
Gravel sounds.
Have you ever seen a morning moon
so bright? A sliver really.
She
asleep in the seat.
It's been running. Pushed back
silent she lies.
Blond on headrest.
Laid so far back you begin to
see the meaning of
the early
fossil fog. The echo of apes
in canopy of trees.
Now
she will not wake. She
will never see burrito making.
Pollack through
the bag.
Detox
Places you
never thought you'd be;
it's a game, a quiz show. Addictions
for a
hundred points.
Paper slippers
and rear ended open gowns.
They would've shot us if we lived
in China.
A snow covered
field, a
rusted tractor, a crow on the
seat and one on the fender; they open
the blinds during quiet time.
I have nothing
here, they took
my wallet, searched my bags, left me
with a peeling
edged photo of my children.
There is a
commotion down the
vinyled hall, a doctor and a swarm of nurses,
soft
sneaky sponged shoes,
clipboards
with prognosis tossed
like frisbees into the sky above a bottomless
ravine. Things don't look that good.
