Park the creepy van
outside your mouth, your lips
unfold your words like
origami fists
on the sandpaper sheen
of the astroturf, the shiny white rocks
hoses orange
or that beat up green
pink and blue indians, cowboys
plastic specks on the flecked back deck
transmission grinding your teeth around
the van window comes slowly down
from inside thin aluminum walls,
widely corrugated and spangled in gold print stars,
already expecting the worst, a flirt, a flinch,
a flaming J ejected, rubber burned across your cheeks
your pink nails offset by the pancake color
of your hand, your legs, your feet
outside your mouth, your lips
unfold your words like
origami fists
on the sandpaper sheen
of the astroturf, the shiny white rocks
hoses orange
or that beat up green
pink and blue indians, cowboys
plastic specks on the flecked back deck
transmission grinding your teeth around
the van window comes slowly down
from inside thin aluminum walls,
widely corrugated and spangled in gold print stars,
already expecting the worst, a flirt, a flinch,
a flaming J ejected, rubber burned across your cheeks
your pink nails offset by the pancake color
of your hand, your legs, your feet
I dated a girl that lived in a trailer park. We came home one night to find her mom had committed suicide. Stark reality in a blood spattered double-wide. You capture the sense of the "park" life Scotty. Not that I lived there long. I was just a visitor in a forgotten land. But I feel it all again from your words.
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