by Ryan Hardgrove
just north of town
along the Ohio river
my little apartment
rattles in its foundation
as another plane skates
far too low
I’m full and bloated
on 8 dollar pizza
and can’t seem to scrape
enough black sticky residue
out of my old glass pipe
I could call someone
for a real score
but I’m fresh out of cash
I’ve even exhausted all the nickels and dimes
the quarters have been gone for days
and the pennies are far too tragic
for spending
the ball of tar is getting close
to something substantial
almost smoke-able
maybe I will get high tonight
another plane blasts
through the window
like a god damn freight train
and irritates my diligent fingers
working ceaselessly
at the meticulous task at hand
one day all those planes
will drop out of the sky
like locust shells
and then maybe
I’ll be able to figure out
what’s really wrong with me
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