|View single post by timmy|
|Posted: Sat Dec 1st, 2018 03:00 am||
|I can see Frank
stepping through swinging
doors onto an empty platform,
turning smartly and striding through
a gauntlet of tiled columns
and mirrored gum machines flashing
bits of his image to each other,
a row of red lacquered chairs
burning before him until he reaches
the day’s stale sweetness.
He will climb into the passenger side
of a rusted-out Chevy, turn to God
"I’m getting it tonight, baby. Drive away,
And off they would go,
racing away from Small-town
in a cloud of his fuck you dust.
Everyone else would wave good-bye,
turn and shake their heads.