arrow shirt
the dungeon boiler sun
through slatted shadows
haunt
runs ruinous angles
The chevron pack of
filtered butts
tucked tidy

slacks and polished shoes
re soled
still sporting a fedora
though the looks are
changing
Tail fins and loud
planes from the salt
flat airport
Stock the Desota
hit the turnpike for
the quota
Newsboy calling out
the words
"Hot off the press"
and the neon fire
like dragon blood
will gleam
for the night club
hipster jazz lover
machines
in their heeled
hose and calve
run gams
The little mole
at the quirk of
a mouth
and the shot
of gin to the stubble
of a chin by
sterling flask
in a casual suit
The paperback
thumbed through
making its round
with the sports
whom pencil in
their names
like the bookies
at the end of
the morning shifts
and enormous
winds humid and
hot tipping hats
and flinging up
dresses
like a thrill a minute
ride on the island

The zippo fires up
in a flick learnt
from a woman
I chummed with
and the draw on
the coffin nail
fills my head with
magic and all
the madness
melts away
while we guard
the car waiting
for the others
to show
for the great
road tour
west
...