Thaw
Tiny veins
Unexposed to the early morning light
She shivers the icicles from her eyelashes
Hands gripping the steering wheel,
She swerves the usual routes
Tipping the ash from her cigarette
Out the window
Crackling static from her radio:
It's gonna snow hard soon.
Maps lay beside her, she never
Looks for their encouragements.
There's a dirty coffeeshop,
And her Vanilla Mocha is way too
Strong, way too bitter to her
She inhales the warmth anyway,
Grateful to have any form of
Energy she can grasp
The man at the gas station grins at her
She hands him ten dollar bills and he
Bags her two cartons of Marbolo Menthol Lights
"How long has it been since you've bathed" he asks
"Dirty mind, dirty body," is all she breathes.
At interstate sixty-nine, she reads the
Green and white billboads that read "GOD"
She questions their meaning, as she tosses
her full ashtray out the window,
watching the cigarette butts flutter
Onto the icy highway.
She flicks the knob to red, waiting for
Warm air to flood her filthy car
She lights another cigarette with one hand.
it shakes between her lipstick smeared lips
Heat slowly comes, her numb fingers tingle
She floors the accelerator, not caring if
Her car sputters and skids on the ice
She passes wooden crosses that bear dead flowers
Where another soul was taken to heaven
She passes buildings that were bulldozed to the ground
And restaurants that don't accept credit cards
And family businesses that went out of business twenty years ago
All this she takes in, as her fingers slowly thaw
Her body relaxes as the heat engulfs her
She sees the tavern where he once proposed to her
And the parking lot where she lost her virginity at seventeen.
And the school that had the snotty principal
It's just heat and air
She once lived here, but
Not anymore.
It's distant, shattered memories
She lights another cigarette,
hangs her head out the window, and screams
"FUCK YOU" as her lungs shatter
________________________________
First poem I've written in maybe six months. I'm usually extremely hesitant about posting those things without first making a few drafts or even spell checking
I started a few ideas on receipt paper between customers tonight, I was so excited to write it down when I got home.
I'm kind of worn out tonight. We got a new manager while I was gone and I closed the store with her for the first time tonight. She didn't do a walk-through or anything, and she had that I-Don't-Give-A-Shit attitude. But you know what? It's okay. As long as she comes up when I page her and she's there, it's fine. It felt nice to come home a half hour early. Nine hour shifts suck.
I'm tired, but I won't be able to sleep. I'll swallow the pills, but they'll only help til morning. He's always in my thoughts/dreams/prayers.
Tiny veins
Unexposed to the early morning light
She shivers the icicles from her eyelashes
Hands gripping the steering wheel,
She swerves the usual routes
Tipping the ash from her cigarette
Out the window
Crackling static from her radio:
It's gonna snow hard soon.
Maps lay beside her, she never
Looks for their encouragements.
There's a dirty coffeeshop,
And her Vanilla Mocha is way too
Strong, way too bitter to her
She inhales the warmth anyway,
Grateful to have any form of
Energy she can grasp
The man at the gas station grins at her
She hands him ten dollar bills and he
Bags her two cartons of Marbolo Menthol Lights
"How long has it been since you've bathed" he asks
"Dirty mind, dirty body," is all she breathes.
At interstate sixty-nine, she reads the
Green and white billboads that read "GOD"
She questions their meaning, as she tosses
her full ashtray out the window,
watching the cigarette butts flutter
Onto the icy highway.
She flicks the knob to red, waiting for
Warm air to flood her filthy car
She lights another cigarette with one hand.
it shakes between her lipstick smeared lips
Heat slowly comes, her numb fingers tingle
She floors the accelerator, not caring if
Her car sputters and skids on the ice
She passes wooden crosses that bear dead flowers
Where another soul was taken to heaven
She passes buildings that were bulldozed to the ground
And restaurants that don't accept credit cards
And family businesses that went out of business twenty years ago
All this she takes in, as her fingers slowly thaw
Her body relaxes as the heat engulfs her
She sees the tavern where he once proposed to her
And the parking lot where she lost her virginity at seventeen.
And the school that had the snotty principal
It's just heat and air
She once lived here, but
Not anymore.
It's distant, shattered memories
She lights another cigarette,
hangs her head out the window, and screams
"FUCK YOU" as her lungs shatter
________________________________
First poem I've written in maybe six months. I'm usually extremely hesitant about posting those things without first making a few drafts or even spell checking
I started a few ideas on receipt paper between customers tonight, I was so excited to write it down when I got home.
I'm kind of worn out tonight. We got a new manager while I was gone and I closed the store with her for the first time tonight. She didn't do a walk-through or anything, and she had that I-Don't-Give-A-Shit attitude. But you know what? It's okay. As long as she comes up when I page her and she's there, it's fine. It felt nice to come home a half hour early. Nine hour shifts suck.
I'm tired, but I won't be able to sleep. I'll swallow the pills, but they'll only help til morning. He's always in my thoughts/dreams/prayers.