Lulu Turns The Key

Lulu sits in her coupe

smoking home grown

outside 'Billy's Super Rib'

that proudly never closes.

 

Where she works

for seven years now

listening to Mexican radio

that annoyingly never ends.

 

There isn’t much

to contemplate.

Just the dust

and the sizzled wind.

 

The boys that

come and go

on motorcycles, methadone,

and mediocrity.

 

So Lulu flicks the roach.

Slams on that Joni tape

that plays all the way

to Newfoundland.

 

Her shimmering northern light.

◄ Poems That I Do Not Like

Levee ►

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