OUROBOROS
I dropped 30¢ and a letter on a sandwich he left at the bar,
took a bite because it needed taking under the
hot sun lamps––smut on my nose. That 30¢
should be enough to buy a one way phone call to
another time. Same bar. New me?
And the letter?
That’s good for a lap dance, some laughs or her love
on the side streets of a smart phone world, where
dreams walk with medusa-eyed muses and poets
Lethe away past sips, sleep off tomorrow’s sins
against a bar wet with serpents
eating their own tails…
The bite in my sandwich. 30¢ and a letter. Unread. Again.
…..
This poem first appeared in The Red Wheelbarrow, and can be found in the chapbook Through the Wreckage by J.T. Trigonis (Finishing Line Press) at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/through-the-wreckage-by-j-t-trigonis/
