Roach – Wayne F. Burke

 

I drove all night
10 hours,
central Florida, North
my two buddies passed-out
in the seats
the Volkswagen Beetle engine
humming
the black night
the bugs hitting the windshield
like ping pong balls
I smoked a roach
the car began to float
the road a golden pathway
a Donna Summer song
on the radio
I felt like the only person
in the world
awake
in the land of the snake
and crocodile
on the radio
the radio
the thick morning fog
a three lane highway
a big green sign
a black guy on a motorcycle
close beside
he shouts “you white devils!
Go to Hell!”
 
WELCOME TO ATLANTA.


Wayne F. Burke’s poetry has appeared in a variety of publications (including The Bees Are Dead). His three published poetry collections, all from Bareback Press, are WORDS THAT BURN (2013), DICKHEAD (2015), and  KNUCKLE SANDWICHES (2016). His chapbook, PADDY WAGON, is scheduled for publication by Epic Rites press in 2016. He lives in the central Vermont area.

 

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