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Wednesday, March 5, 2014


Photo by RP Thomas


Big Mike left Tex’s
that night the proud
owner of a ’58 Harvester bus,
but oblivious to the lust
that had swelled up in Lizzie.

She seemed dizzy and loud,
though he did like her drawl,
and the way she squeezed
lemons and swirled her straws,
and pawed his money with long

Fingers painted red at their tips,
and moved her hips when she
dipped at a table to deliver fish &
chips before moving on, laughing.
Driving to the wrecking yard

That night, Big Mike was lost.
O he was very aware of the cost
of doing business with Tex, he
knew that much at least, for his
beloved Chevy was gone; in its

Place was an old bus that had
ceased to run and a woman named
Lizzie who liked to cuss and have fun,
and wear red in a crossroads town;
It would all soon wear Big Mike down.


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