Closing Timemature
Last night 'round closing time
she swallowed the salvation salesman
she had found when she was backstroking
in the bottom spittle of a longneck bottle.
For two hours he assured her-- the sheath
of his shiny knife pressed against her backside-
that everything, everything- had gone south
to ^*shit, so she best shut up, buckle up,
and just say @@#@ it 'cause it's just
easy, eeaassyy, eeeasassseeeyyy now,
eeeeaaaasssseeeeyyy now---that way.
The End
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Author guidance for This poem
"Closing Time" and "The Morning After" are my worst fear poems. Feel free to add your fear poem if it strikes your fancy (and you want to think about horrible things and try to make them sound like poetry.)
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You're currently reading the poem
Closing Time, which
was posted on Feb 12, 2010 by
C3Lady.
This is a collaborative poem.
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This poem is filed under:
Mature Themes
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