Fucked

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

dark

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