A hand painted
still life

of the Munger Moss Motel
Lebanon Missouri

red doors in a neat row
with vintage cars

parked out front

off to the side
is the turquoise slide

that plummeted guests
into the baby blue

of the pool

flip it over
and there are turkey tracks

on the back
where the ink is smudged

in spots

with
only the brevity

MISS YOU!

readable
in big caps with exclamation point

and I miss you
already

like I miss my brother
mother

and everything else
I can only see when

I close my eyes
at night

The color of your
ballpoint pen

I used to scrawl
on the Post-it note

Are we ok

I think
that's a fair question

don't you

eighteen wheelers
welcome

with parking
in front

forks bent
plates are chipped

the peg game's
missing a few pegs

and the eggs run
like the waitress's mascara

Usually spooled
pink fluffy

sugary stuff
it's there

in your mouth
then it dissolves

here
then we're not

parting
is never sweet sorrow

senseless
maybe

There's something about
being

functional
and nothing else

of being
able to fill a need

and nothing else

this poem like a shovel
a rake or ***

serves only to make
a garden grow

being
nothing else

It's too big
for the corner pocket

and that's no longer
a call I can make

my life now
reduced to shaking

continuously
a ******* ball

with an eight

and peering
into the deep blue

for  a suitable
dimestore prophecy