Rattler
It’s a click-and-ding slide show at the RR crossing:
murals rendered by Rust-Oleum scofflaws
from who knows where. Some call it vandalism,
but for me it’s the Louvre sans placards.
The images rattle by at blinking speed,
too fast to analyze creative intent. What did
that one mean? What is this one saying?
I’m idling quizzically when the gate arms swing
skyward. Queued up behind, someone is honking.
.
Retrospective of an Exit
I once loved a girl who hated
her mother (it was mutual),
but couldn’t stay away
from her (again, mutual).
I was useful as a straw man
until my flailing attempts
at statesmanship were deemed
a threat to their status quo.
I wonder what happened
with the next guy.
.
Stink Eye Magazine 