rosy in a plastic world

Rosy in a Plastic World

Back a
few years,
hanging around
the truck
stop at
the freeway
interchange,
I hooked
up with a
truck-driving
mama named
Rosy.

 

Rosy &
I drove
over the
mountains &
took a
ferry to
an island
made out of
plastic —

 

Plastic
boutiques
plastic
massage parlors
plastic
health food
stores
plastic
eateries
plastic
meditation
centers
& a
plastic Safeway.

 

We stayed
in a
plastic
hotel called
Hidden Island
Retreat &
the next
morning when
we stepped
out the
door there
were thousands
of plastic
people in
bright plastic
Spandex riding
plastic bikes
around the
island’s
plastic
perimeter.
It was
the annual
Chilly Hilly
event.

 

The ferry
when we
were leaving
the island
that afternoon
was swarming
with
Chilly Hilly
plastic
people
drinking
juice from
plastic
bottles &
shooting plastic
frowns at
Rosy’s tattoos.

 

“What the fuck
you lookin’ at?”
Rosy snapped,
& the
plastic
people
looked away.

 

We drove
back over
the mountains
into the
desert &
spent the
afternoon at
my place
digging plastic
fragments from
under our
fingernails.

Leave a Comment

Filed under poems & short jabs

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *