And One More for the Rooooad...
by Nikki Moen
One as a reflection
a disembodied salutation
of the living corpse talking;
the literal bog dump
of euthanasia
One who partly took me
as a mirror, for hours upon hours
gazed on his image-
it wasn't as if I minded
the practice
in the least
One to stay silent and cheap
as I gape, flabbergasted
in a black military dress
upon my swiveling stool
of us, the lower class
(or is it just low class)
in some dumb sports bar
One to take soft sweet generosity
and hack phlegm upon it
in a half-assed offering that lacked
any buffering
polish in the least
and one me to take it out
on the perplexed nice ones
because of the ones, the assortment of ones
(the rogue’s gallery of ones?)
who came before.
