 | I met a cowboy with the door ajar
and he turned up over the counter
wailing, bribing the saxophone to
pull up a chair because he’s gotwhat he needs. So the bartender
threw him a flask and two cents
to open up the graffiti.
The stranger in the corner said,
“Signs save lives, sunshine”. The
cowboy puked up empty space
clutching his head because that’s
where the echoes are the loudest.
He’s got a bible up there but the
sound between him and his parents
is too distorted and too old to reverse
its wheelchair position.
He paused for the sake of the stained ground.
He doesn’t understand where he
fell down, why the splatter of blood
on the melting concrete looks familiar.
He doesn’t know the religious cheerleaders
but there’s still the familiar blood splatter
and that’s enough to wet the headphones.
Written by Patrick J. Tiernan
Submitted by Patrick J. Tiernan |  |