Heart Like a Gas Station Emporium

claims less than a hundred in the till
behind the glass that still won’t keep
the best-aimed bullets out. It tends

to stick close to the highways,
to try them on like heels and walk
experimentally, measuring by feel

how beautiful/how practical. Still
this is no real explanation for the
disproportionate amount of outlaws

who hang around the parking lot
and shine their motorcycles
with their eyes. They roll the odds

around like pennies in their mouths,
considering the copper taste of risk.
They’re sure the sign about the hundred

is a trick.

(originally published by Quill and Parchment)