We have time before
the Greyhound stops
the drugs kick in
a drop or two left in our glasses
& the not so small hope to
see something good

bewitched by an endless rancid
& phallic argument
while saddled between two friends
in a fast moving car on its way
to the unwholesome theater aisle
where we’ve been bastardized
season after season,
my cigarette is left to die on the
constantly sticky floor

Inside we toast one another
from smuggled metal flasks
& pocket bottles of Jack Daniels
seek the acidic sweet taste of lemon fruit snacks
unwrapped from individual stolid cellophane
& mix these tastes with the artificial butter flavor
from someone’s abandoned popcorn
as our stomachs grumble a chorus of approval

This is life’s reverie
dubbed as reference:
to grandeur, to prisons,
to monotonous mentions
of Quentin Tarentino tropes
Raymond Chandler genius
& Toni Collette’s teeth


What is left of brightness
when its shine shimmers
against dusty black backdrops
& maroon carpet covered walls
in the low rent surround sound caves
we frequent–plugged into mp3 noise
control or talking in whispers–
deaf to the dwindling Dachau belle
left alone, stilted, upstaged
by a scratched sandalwood sofa
& cracked cherry wood chaise lounge?

What does this product rich culture have to offer us
outside of the momentary relief of a stadium seated
air-conditioned womb? We, the mayo covered masses
who print our names on each job application so that
we’ll be able to wipe the table once you leave,
bring you house salad w/ the dressing on the side,
return your unwanted salmon filet & sing your
daughter happy birthday?

Where can we go to swim in the tranquil sea
day spa of your experience? Surely, it isn’t
to be found amongst the unmoving
cup holders, the blue glow of aisle lights,
& overflowing metal cans of trash we pass.


We are the ones that always leave raucous & early
to avoid long lines for bathroom stalls
snort expensive white powder at the mirror
or dry swallow multi-colored caps
in full view of ricochet children without mothers
& smoking employees hiding from their mops

We are the ones who throw abandoned cups at the large pristine mirrors
& leave to find seats in adjacent high priced nightmares without tickets,
laugh loudly & put our feet up on the back of your seat
the demand for free air conditioning too high
in this relentless desert heat