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