Just another Tuesday on Eastern Avenue

on a bus billboard
silently tells my old man,
outside the Burger King,
that the halfway house can
snap a heroin needle in half.

But my old man
was too busy
picking dirt from his nails
drinking from a bag
chewing his bottom lip.

My old man was
in a dirty argyle sweater,
just another on a bench
that sizzled in the heat
like a dying
like singed fingertips
black with ash.

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s