Nights like this
I wonder
is there anything more
than these lousy jobs
the stink of the mornings last cigarette
the ache of the feet on concrete floors
the empty pockets at week end?
how many energy drinks
does it take to wash down uncertainty?
how many rails of lightning
off of dirty tables does it take
to get through the next shift?
Through the windows at work
I watch the cars on the highway
their tail lights reflect sinister on jailed glass
I wonder what it must be like
to wade through their dance
become one with metal
flesh muscle uncertainty
gone
Nights like this
I think
of that one boy who I barely remembered
who became a swan in rush hour traffic
who painted Highway 36 with his blood
and was born again as flowers on a phone pole
metal flesh muscle uncertainty
gone
Nights like this
I think
of all the pretty faces
Damian Rucci is the author of five books of poetry and the unofficial poet laureate of 711. His work has recently appeared on gas station bathroom stalls across the Midwest. He is the founder of the Poetry in the Port reading series and can be reached at damian.rucci@gmail.com