Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Kristen de Kline #81 Friday night in the Valley

Friday night in the Valley
may I have my cigarettes please, Miss Ratched?
did she     malfunction
her propeller blades lash
violently     in her strait-jacket
under amethyst skies

Are you there Plastic Linda?

your boy won't stop talking: OB1 on crack go diffuse it I'm a freak just want to sacrifice myself to get the game over with

Friday night in the Valley
a U-turn on Lawless Road, back to South St    
stare up at skies, a darker shade of violet  

     in dreams
Joan Ferguson tucks in your cotton sheets, hospital corners
slits two veins in your throat    doesn't hang around to watch blood spilling, cursing, dribbling

Bea Smith passes you a metallic key attached to a cardboard casing
writing scribbled across it in a language
you     lost
a long time ago

amethyst skies    half melt down
peaceful resigned     almost     but not quite
Friday night in the Valley:
coal mine workers clock off for the last time ABC news-feed reporters stut-stut-stutter the same question:  do you think you'll find another job? is this the end of the line? 

there's a city that's faded      it's very far
away    Passport surrendered    watching Prisoner Cell Block H in black and white
pass me another pint under the sun     give me roses     order one more    
can you make the sun still shine and the rain fall down     can you breathe colour back into the skyline

a girl could get lost tonight, just sayin'  

Friday night in the Valley    bury your limbs under a blanket of Stella Artois stub out fags on your inner thigh burn heart-shaped holes through denim     not a slap in the face kick in the guts hammering that goes on-and-on-and-on     paperwork    that weighs you down     windshield wipers slappin' time      why'd you always want to believe the best how gullible does he think you are    generic cop called Glitter slips, slides you 'paperwork'     his name's woven across it, embroidered, stamped on every page    nothin' that's all that Bobby left me     sealing our fates, go on crush the rubber crest down    why'd you always believe the best  

a girl could get lost tonight, just sayin'

at Lawless Road dead men leave their hollow bones by the milk bar     you buy a bag of Pineapple Lumps and a bottle of L&P from a hapless cashier     the sunset's getting closer now     you scribble another poem on a serviette     a girl could get lost tonight     nothin' to hold onto nothin' left to lose at Lawless Road  

sun melting rain falling rubber crests adorned with his scribbled signature heart-shaped holes half-way up your arm like a tomb sealing our fates
sun rain stolen cars rubber hearts  dirty red bandanas hollow bones a fifth pint from the sun not counting

your boy won't stop talking: can we stop winning these, I want to die, I'm going to use the best gun in the game, she's a bitch, always had it in for me ...   


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