head dryer

Sticky summer night
full moon shining,
moonlight slick like the sweat
beading on our foreheads.

We rode around in the back
of a beat-up pickup truck,
more Bondo than metal.
A Sublime album blaring
on the stereo that cost more
than the truck.

Empty plastic Dr. Pepper bottles
rolled around with us in the truck bed
as we sang “Doin’ Time”
While 8-Ball and his girlfriend
sat in the air-conditioned cab,
the rest of us sat in the bed
his accelerations our only cooling.

We made another stop for sodas,
taking notice of a dryer
set out for heavy garbage.
I grabbed a plastic bag,
picking up our trash out of the bed.
Walked over to the dryer,
my impromptu trashcan,
opened the door, and out of habit
took a peek inside.


Nothing puts a damper on your evening
like finding a head in a dryer.

Reviews

[Carey Lenehan]

Great poem. Loved the twist at the end. Well described and vividly executed. Nice write.