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What a drag.
by Kristina Woodhill
They let me wear my fur
over their orange vest,
declared I must be some
upscale la-di-da-di-da.
Didn't want me freezing
in their city nest,
their special locked hotel,
accommodations: Mr. Law.
They let me suck my smokes
while I'm out dragging bags,
a wink to let me know
“Hey, babe, we got your back.”
They watch me bend
and pick up every burned out fag;
I'd like to stuff a few of them
with all this drifting trash.
It's all just one long
drug out
bad, bad joke.
This time I'm in for writing
names creatively;
it's me, it's her, it's him -
I mean, a name's a name!
The hours I spent in tracing
her identity,
you'd think we could be sisters;
come on, we're all the same!
Black top is hot and sticky
in this part of town,
the freeway spits its name
at me on rainy, crud-gray days.
The blues, they double strum
from each car window down,
I've got my leer of fear to stun
their righteous, speeding gaze.
It's all just one long
drug out
bad, bad joke.
The days just blur together here,
the nights bleed dark;
I've got the routine down now
so I never have to think.
Jake, the guard, his voice
a deep hound, Basset bark,
he comes in Mondays
just to check my leaky, stinking sink.
Tuesday's guard, he's awful scarred,
I keep my eyes shut tight,
he's quick and tidy, always sure
my door don't squeak.
Wednesdays on, like gamblers,
they flip coins for rights;
Sunday is my day of rest,
I catch up on my sleep.
It's all just one long
drug out
bad, bad joke.
05/13/2011 Author's Note: Entry for Poetry contest - What do you see?
Posted on 05/13/2011
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 05/13/11 at 06:40 PM I see a really great piece of writing. |
| Posted by Linda Fuller on 05/13/11 at 07:57 PM Good stuff, Kristina. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 05/13/11 at 10:13 PM So real.
the freeway spits its name
at me on rainy, crud-gray days
~ haunts me, has me re-reading |
| Posted by Shawnacy Perez on 06/04/11 at 04:48 PM i can hear the voice of this. the hard, gazing, 'what the hell' voice. a great, deep look at a moment, backed by a lifetime. |
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