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Rusty Boobs
A poem of mine as seen in Movement Magazine.
Enjoy,
~Randy
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Rusty Boobs
By Randy Wilbourn Jr.
The rain hits the pavement like a thousand angels
A dark sky envelops the world in a coating of gray
A can of Rustolium sits on the side of the road,
Much like the discarded whores who perch along the roadside in the emptiness of the night
Fast food fuel, and antacids.
Condoms.
Piss and Vomit.
Semen and gasoline.
It’s still raining in Flinville.
There’s still smoke in the air.
Cadillacs bleed oil like wounded deer
And the children play in the side streets, trying to avoid the cop cars and death
Why is it so cold in the old folks home?
The dust, coats the sidewalks along with broken glass and shopping carts left to die
The stop light sways in the breeze and the bass of an Impala, shakes the world.
Bummm bummmm silence BHMM HMMMM. Stop.
Bummmm hmmmmm . . . mmmmmmm It pulls away.
Its dry. It’s so hot. God don’t have no patience.
drugs
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