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. 

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. 

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. 

Alt. 19

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

Outside, 
the night
closes in
like wolves. 

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. 

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. 

Stranded By Malls (Raised On Video Games)

A music video

flashes

on the T.V.

in her

dark apartment

as neighbors

pound on

walls.

I set

my arm

around her

shoulder

and pull her

close.

The phone rings;

we don't

pick up.

The music

blasts

on and

on.

I feel like

I could

sink into

this ratty old

couch

and stay there

forever.

Suddenly,

the police

knock on

the door.

Who has

time 

to answer

doors?

I take a deep

sip of

beer

and run my

palm

against her

untamed

blonde hair.