John Wick Pumps Gas

The stalks on the other side of the highway

have grown,

the numbers roll up,

and I wonder what I may not remember.

A ‘69 Mustang rebuilt,

I can taste the grease still—

You can't have it all.

You'd say that.

I think about setting fire

to the stalks; wipe out

the whole field.

It's only a small, two lane,

highway. The stream would reach.

I just can't stand for those things

getting any taller.

Back in the car

I turn the dial;

pretend to argue

over the station.

Burn it to the ground,

I thought I'd heard you say.

First published in FLAPPERHOUSE, 2017

C. Antzoulis