Backstreets of Utopia

 

The sparechangers huddled beneath the broken neon,

Reflecting on their lost days and lives.

Matchbook Molly slammed her crazy bone against a cracked kneecap,

Traded her sorrow for passion with Flat-Busted Broken-Down Sam.

 

Crisp blue-shirted slime stared and drooled at the long johns and pretty sprinkles,

Deaf to the grunts of Little Louie sucking a blade through his throat,

And Sally there would trade a blowjob for a half-pack of menthols;

Walt would bargain his blood for a call from his daughter.

 

The clock stuttered out four and the floor dropped an inch.

Mattboy poured one last round and eyed the loud big hair.

The sun forced itself past the body blows of technology;

Charlie wiped his a*s with the Times’ morning popularity poll.

 

The door flung open with a gust of waste;

All the flies reached up their sleeves for a lucky ace.

The heat drained their fluids with a wicked smirk;

They dripped their way back to the L and pasted themselves to the concrete.

“Gotta dime?”

Reviews

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i like it.
it seems like an exercise, and like you had fun with it.
i enjoyed it, too.

thanks for sharing, Deborah