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)
