By Alyssa Trivett

Afternoon Jack

I dub thee,

with the cigar hanging

out of your mouth,

a half-broken toothbrush

tree branch lingering

over the pool ledge.

Old construction and

computer equipment

take up residence

in the back of

your mashed up boxcar,

glued and gluten free with duct tape,

as you glide over those

scarred white lines and

head into the day.

Flask, inner coat pocket.

Desert sand inside;

dry as a kite

after hanging for

three days, post rainstorm.

Welcome to our afternoon

of suspenders driving.

Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. She chirps down coffee while scrawling lines on the back of gas station receipts. Her work has recently appeared at In Between Hangovers, Apricity Magazine and The Rye Whiskey Review.

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