The night lusted for viscera
like a swarthy shark
breaking a long fast.
I smoked the last cigarette
creased like a broken gimp
in the crackling
see--through pack,
tossed the cellophane quick
towards the black sidewalk
and mowed the spaced out
pedestrian right over
in my great-aunt’s rusted
Studebaker.
Tire tracks on his torn
and bitten back
couldn’t keep
us both
from laughing
so hard and loud
whores heard us
two oafs from at least
a block away,
and we made cracks
about the stiff
stacked on the curb
like old cons
on the lam,
bowed and said our bit
to the dashboard
Buddha lookin’
kinda’ fat
not so pretty
even eyeballed
through the glow
of straight and tasty
bourbon.
Voracious sharks
we were that night
happy as fuckin’
clams,
then wondered what
in heck there was
to do now,
what else we
could next destroy
in this damn
nutritious city?
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