Creative Criminals
Imagine: a gritty chase novel
two lonesome ghost riders
with the dissolute demeanor
of stiff whiskey sodden poets
in muted cable-knit turtlenecks
taut bell-bottom jeans & square
toed leather boots with big brass
side buckles battering the sands
ancient teenagers poured into
the husk of an old GM rattler
deviating around hulk pines
old rickety & flaking billboards
shallow tarns & gutsy swerves
hawking tobacco squash into
hollow long neck beer magnums
fulfilling a long larcenous agenda
scalping Angels check
highway
robbery check
blatant plagiarism check
flagrant bootlegging check
two doomed Devils in utter disrepair
fierce fiends of unvarnished veracities
creative criminals
they swindle
they swallow
& then sour
from the blow-back of raw appetites expended
plunging waist-deep in dense, avocado muck
twisting their tight torsos upstream: shit creek.
Somewhere there is a beautiful
woman
in a kitchen thinly slicing fresh vegetables for soup
the sun gathering strength outside of her window
& while she concocts the many ways to disappear
the caravan of days & nights the Misbehavers spent
obscuring were all just to see her soft delicate face
one
more time.
The plot: scant.
The characters: fictional.
The story: true.
**
Moral of this story?
Even the derelicts dream.
In propinquity,
Nic
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