S.F. Wright


That invincibility
After scoring:
So impervious
That you don’t
Think twice
About leaving
Your Pontiac
In front of a
While you rush into

A few places
You’ve discovered,
But tried and true
Is the McDonald’s on
First and 23rd:
A locking door;
A haven—
Even if piss
Puddles the floor
And vomit
Infects the air.

So useless
Is every other place—
Everything, in fact—
That this room’s
An ethereality.

Briskly walking out,
Unlit cigarette
Between fingers,
Touching your lighter;
That first drag’s
Majestical, too;
And look:
No ticket.

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