Sunday, July 7, 2024

Fires

Fist wrapped
around a beer
and
blonde
pixie cut
blowing
in the wind.
Summer smiles 
and
Le Tigre
on a beat up
stereo.
Pale skin-
soft in the shade.
Talk, talk
talk
and rage
into 
the night. 

Tuesday, June 4, 2024

Anarchy Logos (At The Food Court)

Black purses
hang from
slender, pale
shoulders.
Lips wrap 
around
plastic straws.
Studded belts
glimmer
in
fluorescent light.
They walk past
like
lions
stalking
the jungle.
I rub
my eyes
and wander out
into
summer heat.
I drift 
through a
parking lot
and dream
of
new weekends
and
hazy,
unknown nights. 

Tuesday, May 7, 2024

North and South

Bright light
beach-
warm afternoon. 
Cool breeze
in my hair-
water
soft as
glass. 
The hotels
stretch on
for miles;
one end
to the next.
A seagull
glides
through the air. 
My friend
hands me
what's left of
his cigarette.
I stop
and listen:
waiting,
wanting,
young and
alive. 

Wednesday, March 20, 2024

Alt. 19

 A cheap motel room/a bottle of Popov vodka/shadows on tile walls/wild eyes.

Outside, 
the night
closes in
like wolves. 


Friday, March 1, 2024

American Sidewalks

 As wind
crashes
against my
flesh
and cold snow
falls on
my black jacket,
I dream 
of a face,
soft and pure,
in that
warm
Palm Harbor
sun. 

Sunday, August 13, 2023

Aim

She's got a
fast Jeep:
down the highway,
outskirts of town;
down by
neon gas stations
and the
dirty beach.
We pass
homeless men
in wheelchairs
and the
liquor mart
jammed with
cars.
Outside,
night 
closes in
as waves
crash against
the sand.
I light my
cigarette
and
glance over
at her
face:
young,
bold,
sharp as
knives.
She keeps her
pale hands
tight 
against the
steering wheel.
There is
no other
way out.