Sugarland Drive
Sugarland Drive
Sun drenched
in the dusty den
of some perverted old man,
I hit my knees
but not to pray.
Has it really come to this?
People came out of the woodwork
when I spoke honestly;
but only to listen,
then quietly
slipped away.
True confessions
of a learned life.
And he smiles
as he rubs the back
of my neck,
still clutching
a bottle of port
with a screw off top.
The dust
moves in waves,
settling momentarily
on my eyelashes,
making antique out of antiquity;
full of regret.
I hope he finishes soon,
this place is a mess.
And it could use
a woman’s touch.
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Authors: Abigale Louise LeCavalier. Form: Poem. Length: 29 lines. Editor who accepted this story: Previous Editors.
Author Bio
Abandoned Towers Content: K.N.S. Soil Sugarland Drive
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