we promised to come back for it

everyone had been to prison except me

my skull was a heartache

lightning was burning down the dance floor

my mouth was a copper runoff

i received a text saying the weather had gout

we built a box drain in the new cul-de-sac

with our nerve endings and bone concrete

T said don’t fear the machine

i was promoted to motherfucker

he got 900 gallons on pump 4

with an unleaded gas station croissant

someone said where the hell is 12 o’clock

T told the story of his divorce and we all cooed

he picked lunch from his teeth with a box cutter

a lifeline danced across my throat

we contemplated a tide of quicksand

becoming one with the f450

i saw a frog trying to find a stream

behind the big city houses

i tore the river down with a garden rake

and made eye contact with the crisis wolf

everyday i die and it gets so boring


Graham Irvin is from Kannapolis, North Carolina. His chapbook The Woods are now a Traffic Jam and my Family is Deleting Itself was published by Really Serious Literature. His writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Apathy Press, Instant, Philosophical Idiot, and Show Your Skin. Follow him on Twitter @MadeOfAntz and Instagram @trash_gram_

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