Barmaids. Fixing their face. One of these jerks could be The One. The Champagne of Bottled Beer. So they say. One of these jerks. One of these days. Rotate. The stools have fresh grease. Creaky with ass. With whispers Beer Loud. The Deal is it on is it on is it on? Their pistols are dicks. Ready like snakes. Ready to strike. Upping the stakes. Tomorrow. There’s a Line-Up. And the hope that no one breaks out in a sweat. These jerks. Point at their chests like squirrels. Their memories of Last Call are just that. First published by Rat’s Ass Review
top of page
Charlie Robert
Wood. Wire. Hammer. Pliers. Eyes. Empty Sockets. Marbles In Your Pocket. Better Than Stones. Better Than Your Rocket. Form. Matter....
Their Seats. Front Row. Their Limo. On The Go. Pocket Full Of Dough. Baggie. Full Of Blow. Fortune. Fame. Wisdom. Game. Distant Planets...
One Cow. One Flunky. Broken Plow. Grease Monkey. Rye Liquor. Sugar Shack. Ass Kicker. Jumping Jack. Crack Head. In Bread. Take Good Care...
bottom of page
Comments