the night has a thousand eyes

she goes to the rail car diner 
on Route 1 when she needs 
to think. It serves American comfort 
food favorites but the waitress
Sam, has nails box-
jobbed raw as dog bones 
& the man in the next booth 
checks his phone, the window 
the door, the sedans 
pulling up dry-gulched 
in dark fat clips 
of rain. The night has 
a thousand eyes, she wants 
to tell him, each more prying 
than the last. Her husband  
painted hers with a stiff jab 
every time he came home 
from the strip, the secret 
beyond the door only
a secret if you can’t follow the plot. 
She knew the game, got 
a raw deal, a bad deck
loaded dice, doesn’t 
matter what you call it
because now she needs 
to think about getting rid 
of a body. 
She eases off the sun cheaters 
& rolls booth boy a hooded wink. 
‘This place has great pie.’ 
He’s guilty & down for anything. 





drive, just drive

rifle the boiler, tip the bucket
     on a thin 
black eyebrow of road
pigstick the tarmac, rip the iron 
     drive, just 
drive
don’t stop 
     to count the 
rhino
bent car, burn powder
     past the Bowladrome, the creep 
joint
fog the flivver, pickpocket 
     the asphalt, drive
drive, just 
rifle the boiler, make the border
     before we’re 
filled with daylight





if it’s a crime story 

the chambermaid 
finds her 
in a heart-shaped 
hot tub 
pills tic-
tac the floor 
& a red hair dryer 
floats 
the dead calm
a safety deposit box 
stashed in a Greyhound Bus locker 
holds the key to her identity
his
cash, jewels 
something old
new 
borrowed 
blue 
not the listless gray
pulling a switch 
over the Poconos 
where a woman 
who’s not in a crime story 
comes to a dying honeymoon 
resort to mourn 
the end 
of her marriage
then 
the telephone rings. 
there is something 
she is forgetting.
nobody 
was 
supposed 
to get 
hurt.

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Bio pending.

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