at a Mobil station
just outside of Phoenix
in a gold Cadillac Beyond, she
brushes her hair, blowing
the stray strands from her face
disobedience isn’t a door
that needs to be
kicked in, it’s a popped trunk
before she commits, she checks
her make up in an oyster-flip mirror
catching her best angle and pout, she snaps
a selfie to add to her story
barefoot in a pearl sheen sundress
she throws the trunk open
and waits for a billion likes, she knows
all evil needs is good people
to stand by and watch
no one watches
no one is good
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Writer's Digest 531: Write an inside poem
Maybe it's the heat in Phoenix at this time of year that drove her to desperation. :)
ReplyDeleteThis is so creative and interesting! I like the "popped trunk" metaphor.
ReplyDeleteGreat piece Love the popped trunk
ReplyDeleteWow! What a "wicked" piece. I liked it!
ReplyDeleteOh, the art of selfie...Always hunting likes. Love this poem!
ReplyDelete