Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Smoking in the cooler.

The general store/gas station.
Prospect street.
Through the storeroom and kitchen
And to the right.

“We’re going to get robbed.
Just a hunch,” she said.

In the cooler.
With the beer and wine.
Chilled goods.

A motley crew of burnouts.
The rumpled blue shirted store manager.
One way mirror like
the glass doors
of the cooler.

The graveyard shift
A small town.

No cameras anywhere around.

Unmistakable though
from where she stands
The masked man and the gun.

Unmistakable the man
behind the mask
her second husband. (glo)

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...