He’s Just Lucky

washing cut fingers in salt water
bruised leg, bent back
unraveling the sheets warmed
from between her crotch
the quilt ma made
stained by brewed coffee
poured by his personal waitress
patched with bed bug motel scenes
and rocky drives when they were
young, yearning for each other’s
love they called it
when time was hung
beat bitterly till battered bruises became brilliance
dreams came like the car’s red light
halting for hitchhikers
hillbilly county
riders and where sunshine
never hit under
platinum babes’ fried died hair and signs still read no travelers
but they were no gypsies
the town tried gypping
fruitless pockets and lines came dry
ends of ruby running faces
that rubbing alcohol
stinging metal stench
sterilizing emotion
she was
the beauty at burlesque
bright with dizzy lights
black liner took the curve round her eye
she was worshipped
she was god
she was holy
golden statue well advised to stay but left
with him
him lifting salty cut fingers
candying her served rim