100 miles per hour, Sam gloated stroking the dusty car hood
seven days of walking
accomplished in one hour, think of that.
Don’t you see?
At The Final Lounge
The woman of a certain age crowed
every wrinkle – gone!
Got them back when tanning was getting something done.
She pointed to the red stretched skin
blasted right away
I can’t stop looking at my face.
The center of the highway curved
over the bare horizon.
Shelters looked like casinos
Seven Feathers and a Squaw
The Drummer bragged –
Women loved me
he rolled his head, black hair flying
I was in the casino basement at the time
we thought it was a lame gig
You make music like I saw on TV.
The girl finally got up the courage to speak
Yeah, almost as good as fucking TV.
Deep in their bunkers, the easterners
snatched up random writers
as if Letter Men were wandering in packs
and only needed to be cut from the herd, and hauled underground
enough huddled in the dark and wrote for food and safety
From us it is the truth – DO NOT GO WEST
The survivors trudged through the sandy oily soil
And did not hear anything.
Packs of RVs, white land whales
Beached on their sides or backs, the attached furniture
Still serving a skewed purpose.
Yes, chortled the old man,
we had so much to eat
we needed a big cart to roll the food out of the store
a big car to take it all home
the refrigerators! The electricity!
The girl saved Twinkies to exchange for his story:
People like us, the old man remembered
stranded on an island, season after season
The professor tried to make a boat
The cabin boy struggled to help
He made the others laugh.
The movie star was very pretty.
Sam considered her notes. I don’t think that’s a legend
She finished writing with a flourish
It is now.