The Visitor

Trailer parks are monuments
to rusted chrome.
Flaking aluminum peeling
like paint off the sides
of tear shaped homes.
“I want you to come over.”
She said to him wrapping
the red phone cord around
her fist so tight it almost made
it numb. The whole place thought
that she was dumb, but the truth
was she had her own way
of making the world turn.
She mixed herself a drink
with the vodka she stole.
The cashier was too busy
getting high on some bleach
in the freezer.
She only wore her sister’s robe,
while she drank
and listened to the radio.
It was one of her favorite ways
to kill an hour.
There was a knock on her door,
as she sat on her couch,
that pulled out when she wanted a bed.
She finally said that her guest
could come in as she covered
her lips with dark red.

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