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    dots Submission Name: untitleddots

    Author: honus
    Elite Ratio:    4.78 - 90/96/32
    Words: 590
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 703
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 4200


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.


    The hangnail moon
    Bone silver and shining
    Beads up around the shoulders
    Of the dead laid out
    Along the divide.
    Their spider webbed
    Cataracts glint coldly
    Steel carriages clutching
    Rain in their moldy teeth

    She should be sleeping as
    The thin light
    spears the windshield
    stretches with the rolling frame
    snaps away then
    we are speared again
    by the next lamp
    mile after mile.

    She should be sleeping
    But she works A safety pin
    through the side of a can.

    “Usually when they send us Up
    to The penthouse
    we are dealing with class.
    Japanese businessmen,
    Music execs,
    High end salesmen,
    but this little prick
    was sittin’ up there,
    pretty as you please.”

    The can crinkles in her hands
    She forms a cup
    Around the lattice worked pin holes
    Bending the thing
    Into art,
    Slightly shaking
    with its magnificence
    admiring her craftsmanship

    “He was young,
    Naked to the waist
    in nothing
    But boxers.
    He had a pile of rocks
    in front of him like Everest
    I could almost see
    them presidents’ faces
    You know?”

    She meant Rushmore
    But I understood.

    The solid line wavered
    Double then dotted on the right
    Rushing up to the hood
    Then falling away behind
    As we crawled along

    “So he just sits there
    On the sofa,
    Sucking on that glass dick
    Holding his breath
    And talking to me
    Before breathing that sweet
    White smoke into my face.”

    The lights become trees.
    The city falls away
    chased by those
    yellow lines
    rushing back
    melting into it’s stone

    “So I’m standing there
    In front of him
    And through clenched teeth
    he says
    ‘How can you do
    What you do
    And look at yourself
    In the mirror?

    Exhale, suck

    How do you sleep
    At night?
    Exhale, suck

    How do you look
    Your kids in the face?

    Exhale, suck

    How do you manage
    to keep from slicing
    your wrists open?

    exhale, suck


    The foothills grow
    Up under our wheels
    Clouds drape
    The muted moon
    Fog slices into the headlights
    I flick the beams
    Down to low

    “I stood there
    And took that shit
    From the little prick.
    His hands were going numb
    I could tell
    He kept knocking them hard
    Against his knees, working them
    Spastically, God
    There’s no telling how long
    He’s been up there blasting
    Rock after rock”

    The engine bubbles
    Happily pouring us
    We push through the dense night
    Gripping the asphalt numbly

    “After an hour
    He said we were done.
    I could either have the hundred
    We had agreed upon
    Or this”

    She holds up the vial
    And rattles it.
    More than Either of us
    has ever owned
    It glows white
    in her Fingers,
    those happy little Rocks
    tumbling around
    Sweetly slapping the sides,
    Crystalline Heaven there
    in her painted claws.

    There is a lot more
    Than a hundred dollars
    Bouncing around
    Inside that tube.

    She drops
    One of the bigger chunks
    Onto the pin holed can
    Passes the blow torch over it
    And sucks from the tab
    Holds it inside her lungs,
    Says through clenched teeth

    “So just before I left
    I asked him
    ‘aren’t you gonna fuck me?’
    And he said

    Exhale, suck

    ‘I already have’

    Submitted on 2005-09-15 18:18:40     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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