The virtues of the city, and of poverty
Are that one doesn't have to work too
Hard to keep away from one one
Used to love. Pack up the car, and pick
A place, another dump a couple bus stops
Off from where one used to live. An hour
Or two of setting up, of spreading sheets
Upon the bed, and putting toiletries into
A prison-style metal cabinet. Bread onto
The sticky counter. Condiments and beer
Into the 50s-era Frigidaire, and, after that,
Reconnaissance to find the nearest
Grocery store, the bar the broken locals
Haunt, at peace. There's not the slightest
Chance you'll ever see her here.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 116 times
Written on 2019-05-17 at 02:05

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Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
Lots of vivid descriptions. You brought me with you.

one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
i particularly like the the "one one." it's unique and brings to mind "won won," and "one one won," or "one one once won."

as for sticky counters, i'd rather run into an old flame, because, in reality, you might encounter her. it's in the realm of possible.

very nice all around. would that life offered a short bus trip to a new life so simply.