get back on the highway

this place is dead.
it fell down with me into the velvet soil of a fresh-dug grave.
the wisps of faces from their glory days
where their nuclear shadows burned in time
on concrete walls; you see them in their
jalopies, fretting over marlboro reds
they got by fisting pennies into the coinstar, what a jackpot, and
where to put their name in goblin spray paint tonight at 2am? ask H-i-m.
they say he only
knows.
i see them like ants shuttling home their
crumpled friends on twisted backs.
this place is like an amusement park,
except the amusements here
are people’s lives.
perhaps a haunted house.
it’s the grey toxic place where you couldn’t hold it anymore,
everything evaporating, everything broke, everyone
modern pompeii.
an american nightmare.
the next stop not for another 40 miles. same
shit food, same gas station H-e was at, same
lost girl with overgrown acrylic nails she
can’t afford to fill till next paycheck, maybe
not even then. handing you the 15th batch of
fries. have a nice day.
please help me.  i’m anonymous as a flea.
invisible as pain in the dark.


words = samantha lucero 2017 ©
image = giphy.com

Advertisements

6 comments

  1. Great imagery, lived up to the excellent title.

    1. I’m glad the title worked. It had an alternative, but this one stayed.

  2. Always a pleasure to read you, I’m glad to see a new piece posted. A very satisfying read as always.

    1. Thank you! I have little depressing stories in my mind lately that turned into the latest posts. Based on semi-true stories!

      1. Well, keep them coming, no stopping now.

reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: