portrait
the liquor store was only three blocks from the motel
and less than a quarter of a mile
from the los angeles international airport
when the planes passed overhead walls would shake
you could hear the engines screaming at full thrust
like giant monster cocks screaming for endless cunt
they sucked the air out of the sky
and in the liquor store no one even noticed
the long grey warehouse was unpainted concrete
a no-nonsense establishment for serious drinkers
it was all on the shelves and waiting
you paid at the door
and were careful not to get too close to the dog
he was tied up and waiting
for anything he could sink his teeth into
outside the heat was winning
the sidewalk was lined with big lincolns and ltds
there were women in the back seats making promises
if you had the parts and the money
you'd just lean in the window and make your plans
if the price was right it was automatic
there would be an exchange of flesh in some dark room
all conversation lost in the downpour
of the jets overhead
Copyright© michael dennis/Pulp Press Book Publishers 1988