Apocalypse Generation

outside Sam's Liquor
children dabble in cigarettes

their stolen bicycles
scattered in the dusty alley
like wounded horses

last night
they pillaged McDonald's

threw frozen beef patties
at cop cars on slow cruise
up & down the bruised blvd.

even Jose
the neighborhood dope dealer
offered them jobs
making heroin drops
after school

but like tiny fires
soon consumed into one
these kids
just continue to burn
& burn chaos thru
the sleepless barrio streets


I awake to the emptiness
of a Jack Daniels bottle
& her bra staring up
from the bedroom floor

& can't help but feel
like a spent rubber

If I weren't trapped
in this whiskey paralysis
I'd go to her photo of me
collecting dust like gray hair
on her nightstand

How many layers of photographs
are tucked in the frame behind mine?

I've never peeked
but they are there

men who hitch hiked
across this desert
following her promises of love
like water
allowed to drink their fill
then sent off addicted
to the taste of her lips

In a few hours
I'll gather my toothbrush
& scuffed leather jacket

& walk out into the sunset again
searching for an open bar
but willing to settle for
2 eggs
a cup of coffee
& a waitress who
tongues her lips
as she pushes up her bra straps
& offers me nothing
more or less
than fresh squeezed
orange juice from a can

RC Edrington's poetry can be found at

2007 Underground Voices