p
o
e
m
s

Zane slaves over a rock ballad,

tears on cheek,

flared mauve chaps,

bullion lips.

 

two takes,

has cigar,

calls it a Mayflower nickel,

wages, an emotional pilgrimage.

 

not enough,

take ten.

 

pauses for recall,

popular remainders and pulse,

a twinkie that belts out words,

a token underground commute.

 

still indy,

groomed on grunge, gap,

back issues of spin.

weened on theft and quick oats.

 

shows arrive late,

bail for bankrupt minors,

song sinks in scale,

rises, fills fans and dies.

 

we give quarter, its claim,

provide comfort, crowd and cane.

thanks, no, recites Zane,

i’m spent, social and sane.

You Might Also Enjoy

The Locked Room

Ottessa Moshfegh

Takashi dressed in long black rags, ripped fishnet stockings, and big black boots with long loose laces that splatted at the. . .

stories

Baffler Newsletter

New email subscribers receive a free copy of our current issue.

Further Reading

Heads Up: We recently updated our privacy policy to clarify how and why we collect personal data. By using our site, you acknowledge that you have read and understand this policy.