2009 Good Gas Mileage Will Trade for Food

By Bry White

A car is a kind of whale when you have no money. 
Ecstatic sugar high race car fun
                    When flush
Job at the bar
Fell away the same day the drugs melted 
My sadness
Busted and broken used up and orange red light panel
Sneaking around in IL 
With OR plates from five years ago. 
Ice blast silver talisman turbo charged
Aftermarket cabin filter chocked full of June bugs 

Washed by Mother’s rain
There you sit lot hot
Invisible for a few hours. 
                    Island corner.
Three hour tours find their way and mourn you.
                    Make eye contact 
At a funeral, 
          They know and you know 
You are hopeless. 
Soon it will fall away
Break down unfixable flat no gas money
Nothing left but foot power
Sell it for a weekend in a MOTEL. 
          Long walk,
Maybe FL 
Before winter. 
See about that job at that bar. Keep some pants clean
In a grocery bag. 
Start over sticker shock new.

Bry White lives in the woods of Southern Illinois. He occasionally emerges for staff meetings, dog food, or really good people food. He is currently working on his second book and runs a small literary website in his spare time. You can find him at rudderlessmarinerpoetry.com

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