The girls undress over the freeway. So much skin
and speed at once, bangles tangled in a tee. You should be happy you’re
seeing this, but you spilled coffee on the passenger seat. You’ve never had a
passenger. There’s a story you tell: someone
buried alive. The pedestrian bridge walks its own plank at night. Youdrive under the girls; the girls
don’t mind. They’re jacking dials to pirate radio, listening for sabers and
buried treasure. from under the highway
inside a warehouse a bench train station gas gauge rain
*
Outlaw
Station
My mind was a movie that kept us both
company. Trailers showed spoilers. Depending on which friends we asked, one
of us wanted to downsize her feelings. I just wanted lights out to last.
Birds flew south and you became Ralph.
I begged Ralph to drop the italics.
You made me promise to alter my syntax. Sometimes I suffered from static
attacks, numbers New Government crunched into nibs.Free radio broadcast from rat traps on Key, clandestine wireless
tuned to torn sheets.
**
Carol Guess is the author of six books, including Tinderbox Lawn
(Rose Metal Press, 2008) and Doll Studies: Forensics (Black Lawrence
Press, forthcoming 2012).
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