The Itch

Losers racing home twilight highway
Hemis switching lanes dully occupied
Soothsayers
Profits of all the knowing genocide
Blue collar heroes
The ones for which John Lennon died

A pizza parlor, 1970’s
Orange
And yellow green. Benches of
Ghosts apologies

A balding shipping clerk talks to the bar
Rocking in his head to Highway Star
For the 100 thousandth time he sings

“No one’s gonna steal my car”
He thinks

I want to kiss his highschool football ring
It’s a Monday thing

I just look at it all and sharpen my blade
It’s. So almost
time.
Whispers in my drink

 

 

One thought on “The Itch”

  1. Frozen in time. A vignette. Such a dastardly trick to be surrounded by such confusion, and then live long enough to contemplate it and arrive at an answer that was only applicable then. Life is full of good humor. Yes! Onward.

    Liked by 1 person

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