The Drummer

He palms the zebra-print lighter

he forgot to give her.

He found and pocketed it

the day before she ran away.

Now he grapples for it

when he isn’t practicing set

to calm his shaking hands.

 

Ta-ki-ta boom

burst the red bubble blisters.

So he goes out for a 99cent

coke bottle and a pack of cigarettes.

He eyes the flushed girl

in line in front of him.

She’s hot–

 

and 7cent short.

No I don’t have dime

but I can spar’a quarta

he cracks, shooting it across the counter

with a finger flick.

She leaves fast.

He buys a pop and a Camel pack.

 

The crunch of the ice rings nice

against the silent night.

His sits on his apartment stoop alone

seeing her red lips

swollen to a pucker from the cold.

He holds out his broad scarred hands

like to cup the vision of her round ass.

 

He lights a clope and draws.

Squinting at the zebra print against the frosty night

he wraps his fingers round it tight

steadying them against the shiver.

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    • rosalie catanoso
    • June 22nd, 2011

    LOVE this. love how it all ties into the zebra print lighter. awesome full-circle affect

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