everything slows to an oppressive crawl
but the steel sentries lay awake,
ears cocked for miscreants, spray-painted van goghs
on a budget.
two silver cars rooted in the parking lot
house innumerable instances of speedy kisses
and entangled stilettos. tinted windows rolled down.
heavily misted whispers escaping parted pink lips.
car joggling, joy stick harmonies.
pavement glistens like slick skin toiling by the bedpost,
feverish yellow street-light sticking out coldly;
sore thumb, arrogant eye at the irrelevance of
human limbs clutching throbbing throats, cough drops,
fingers of snubbed lovers.
hallucinate between hostile aisles of
convenience stores, stale bread and part-time workers
holding back three gallons of tears; drown this
lust for sorrow in coffee grounds. in beer cans.
watery clouds stinging in chests and flammables
that cling to disheveled clothes.
pay in cash. grubby palms.
pocket of universe painted so lonesome.
pocket of universe so hushed.
i'd imagine going to a gas/petrol station at 3 must feel like an out of body experience. i hope you get a chance to experience it. i hope it feels lonely. i hope that is enough.