Tuesday, October 11, 2011

cigarettes and ten cent dreams

scorcher, today
sit on the curb, kick off my flip flops

back to the filmy, dime store window
i live for these 15 minutes
every 4 hours
smoke hovers around me
not even a slight breeze for it to dissolve in

highway sounds mix with wails
momma tells her it’ll just be a second
i nudge a condom wrapper with my toe
how the hell did it get in the middle of a parking lot?

shirt stuck to my back
don’t care
10 minutes left

she comes back outside
slaps the kid
screams stop

that’s a relief

get a whiff of greasy chinese next door
finger sticky change in my pocket
food or cigarettes?

suck in the last bit
exhale slowly
mash it on the ground

5 minutes
enough time to walk across the street
and bargain for another pack

a girl's gotta eat, right?
i can finish him off in a minute
and still get some chinese

2 minutes

it’s ridiculous how i live for these 15 minutes

Friday, October 7, 2011

ultimate oxymoron

writer's block
tight, white skin,
freckles pull apart,
splintery letters, press, insistent
words dissolve in wet flesh before surfacing

Friday morning memories

I wrote this when I was driving across the states, trying to find myself and getting lost in the process. Such a cliche, I know, but so very true.

highway in new mexico
i stop for gas,
standing alone
biting cold whipping through my bones
like wooden floorboards on a bitter gray morning
hafta fill up, pee,
buy more cigarrettes
old man stares at my shorts
he wonders where i came from
i tell him
it was warm when i got in my car this morning

baker city, oregon
check into motel 8 off interstate 84
sit and flip through unfamiliar channels
watch the rain and sleet fight with the window
trace the tattered edge of the blanket that has obviously seen many nights of truckers and whores
pull it tight anway
cold doesn't know the difference between you and i

somewhere near the washington state line
sky is massive and blue, wild and untouched
so fierce it burns my eyes if i keep them open too long
windows down, air tastes cold
fly down the highway, pass lonely truckers
heading home
it's been so long since i've seen snow
radio's going out
nothing but fuzzy jazz and some man screeching about his god
on and on they go,
but i just smile
'cause i know they don't really know the answer

i'm headed home