The Lady at the Counter

She says hello
politely
asks me if I need any help
finding a cigar
No thanks, I say
and just browse
as I am want to do
I find a cheap pack of
10 cigarillos
from Germany
She smiles,
so I tip her
then she gives me matches
Have a good one she says
I smile Thanks you too
She says she'll try
I want to talk to her
but another customer comes
and she says hello
so I leave
and have a smoke.
It's smooth.

"I Think We're in Arkansas"

Scrounged every quarter,
Every last drop
Of liquor, scrapped
Meat and cheese
From fridge corners,
Enough bread for
Six days driving.
Six dudes piled
Together, cargo van
Windows always down,
Drinking the sun
Through aviator glasses.
Trading thoughts, stories
Personal histories, karma
Absorbing color, strong
Wind, heat, sound
Pouring through skin
Making us whole
Becoming one whole
Car and not
Six separate passengers.
Hot speaker stereo
Music with fingers
Tickles our faces.
We keep rolling
Cheap tobacco cigarettes
Tangled in laughter,
Episodes of conversation
Or momentary seclusion,
With surplus jerky
Chewing jaws numb
Until smiles stuck
From muscle tensed,
Dozing off, on
Sliding down seats
Drooling in sleep.
Forgetting our names
Remembering only seconds,
Tattooing a memory
Shaped like wheels
On my ribs.