"citgo" poems
Being the only one awake in the back seat, or the only one thinking loudly,
and in the back of your mind, sitting there like living weight, you've got
the giant Citgo sign
(you swear you could fit in the T),
listening to passion pit as the golden sun flings itself on the highway,
a construction worker lowering his pants in front of a dumpster,
hearing the sandlot play downstairs as you stare at the dark ceiling,
pizza you ate in the park the evening before now being had for breakfast,
finding out the **** is pro-choice,
getting your shoulder squeezed on a rollercoaster
by a boy who screams like a girl,
feeling drunk even though you're sober,
running through the dark,
passing trailers with round lanterns lining the tops,
outlining shirtless men and smoking women,
looking in the mirror after swimming with your clothes on
in a hot tub,
and you're not sure if you're
beautiful
or
disgusting.
Yeah, you can sleep now.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 7:12 PM UTC
Dye my hair black and drench my lips in venom red.
Snag a ticket at the bus station in town and watch the country fade away in a blur
Slither off the bus with clasped fingers around one suitcase with both hands reaching towards the gray skies, trying to tickle the glowing Citgo sign
My oxfords slapping the cobblestone as I run down the alley, blades of hair slapping my face with each stride.
I scream only once while running, I scream for freedom
I scream for Boston
May 22, 2011
May 22, 2011 at 7:19 AM UTC
a child is being
detained,
along with his
mother,
at a
citgo
quick stop
by an Asian
store owner
suspected
of stealing a
candybar.
f
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC