The sigh of gas pumps in an empty station.
Newspapers that line the desert,
flagstones leading to the porch.
Some folks don't know the difference
between a missile and a match. An
easy mistake when you think about it,
seeing as though they both emit flames.
Quickly we realize there's not even
enough room to bury the cat, at
least not in this postal-stamp size
backyard. So much concrete. And my
brother-in-law likes to play with
handcuffs. Not the best role model
for his boy. Industry? Is the music
business considered an industry. I
like it when electric guitars cry
the blues. Come to think of it, I
don't remember there ever being a
toll on this bridge. Driving for
miles and not an RV park in sight.
The father comes along and we
regret every minute. The son never
removes his cap the whole trip. But
by morning, the bottle of iodine
fully escapes anyway, creeping up
the length of the toll booths
like masses of famished kudzu.