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Literature Text
hundreds of dollars
two southern cops
and a border patrol search
later
we found ourselves
setting up
for the big shakedown
armed with wide eyes
and dulled wits
we were ready
for anything
even the ever encroaching desert
arid & alluring
as some sun-baked siren
sweetly singing of half-remembered promises
and unfulfilled madness
the true american dream
betting it all on red
white
and black
while muttering incantations about
father's latest footwear
and being thrown out of only
the finest places
all hands on deck
for the most triumphant
distress signal
ever
heard
two southern cops
and a border patrol search
later
we found ourselves
setting up
for the big shakedown
armed with wide eyes
and dulled wits
we were ready
for anything
even the ever encroaching desert
arid & alluring
as some sun-baked siren
sweetly singing of half-remembered promises
and unfulfilled madness
the true american dream
betting it all on red
white
and black
while muttering incantations about
father's latest footwear
and being thrown out of only
the finest places
all hands on deck
for the most triumphant
distress signal
ever
heard
Literature
curb-sitters.
i ask her what she wants to be when she grows up and she tells me she already has, so i say no, what do you want to be when you grow up and she says an octopus, an eight-legged creature of the deep. solitary, strong.
i tell her that's the kind of answer a child would give but she tilts her head and smiles and tells me that if she hasn't grown up already, she must still be a child.
i admit, my long-legged gloss-toned friend has a point, but then i also tell her she's a smart ass, because she is. i change the subject. i say let's look at the moon and she pulls her face and tells me she would rather look at dirt.
dirt, y
Literature
just fine and you
things you learn at 63,000 feet;
I am not scared to die.
/
things you learn on the ground;
I am scared to love.
Literature
faded polaroids
voices echo down
the hall like playground
memories and school
pictures with bad haircuts
I listen to those
indistinct murmurs
and stare into the past,
remembering when
life was as simple
as bologna sandwiches
and names spelled in
alphabet soup
animal crackers roared
in our hands until
we bit off their heads
and made them be quiet
saltines and grape juice
served as communion
under the big oak, God
watching from the branches
in a world drawn in
black and white when
love was love and we
werent allowed to hate
(for fear of damnation)
I can smell those days,
taste the sweaty
summer afternoons
running through dan
Suggested Collections
Full Title: swing low, sweet Roswell (Vegas interlude)
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road poem
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road poem
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Comments85
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SOS.
Very nice. :3 *is not a good commenter*
Very nice. :3 *is not a good commenter*