November 21, 2014


pulling on a Tecate 24
running up Preston
dank night
up about where
Indian Trail slashes across
oily dark swimming
across broken asphalt
dirt you feel as much as see
Preston is a hard, hard shithole
breathing chunked petroleum
sloughing off strip malls

perhaps not dark
so much as light
at crazed angles
coming in as negative light
always people crossing the street
in the dark, you don’t see
them just sort of hanging out
there in the double turn lane
Mexicans Africans Koreans Whites
about half dragging strollers
the lumpenprole defying death
hanging on the edge
of the broken asphalt river

all it is is
you wake up in
the morning
and find yourself
back out on Preston
fucked, like always

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