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Tuesday, April 30, 2019

Puddle



I was a motel.
On a dirty highway,
veer off to the left,
glide right in.
You’ll see me smiling
and dancing baby,
just for you.
Blinking and buzzing,
I’m the sign
with my pink and white
neon shimmy.
Snapped
mosquitoes grilled,
tortured.
Flashing
in the $22 a night,
TV included
VACANCY

David-Matthew Barnes

This poem originally appeared in an issue of The American River Review.
This poem is also featured in the poetry collection Souvenir Boys.

Image by dot lizard

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