This is America

Behind the wheel,

Photo by Hungrybison

With a gut full of beer, and twenty bucks to my fuckin’ name.

A Vietnamese whore,
Sits beside me.
Illuminated, just barely, by the yellow hue of the passing streetlights.
I push my gun between my legs,
I’m on the ready, on the ready.

Tension knots my neck.
My testicles ache, one too many kicks from drunks in cowboy boots.

My body aches from one too many beatings.

I’m searching the dusty dim lit streets,
of the “New West”,
For some action,
For some release.
For some head to smash in with a brick.
For some nameless, faceless Mexican to leave bloodied in the dirt.
Someone, no one will notice,
Someone, no one will care about, someone.

The air is heavy and hot.
My body is covered in a thin layer of sweat.
The whore gazes, half drunk,
Out of the open window
Seeking, seeking, seeking something,
In the shadows on the barren sidewalks,
In the shadows of darkened storefronts, something
Among the boarded up windows of restaurants, movie theaters and motels.
In the emptiness of the vacant car yard and the abandoned factory.
She keeps seeking.

I’m gonna fucking lose it.
I’m gonna fuck her up.
I’m gonna get my money’s worth.

I’m cursed by being born in this desert town, this shithole.
Cursed by having been sent to another desert, another shithole,
to kill.
Cursed with a fucking memory,
Cursed by the tradition of motherfuckin’ Semper Fi .
I’m cursed to be this, this… this is America

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Filed under Blood, lonliness, micro stories, original photography, original writing, photography, poem, poems, Sex, Short stories and essays

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