Fred Aiken Writing

Category: Poetry

fools gold braided into a stripper’s hair

to shimmer in the neon lights

that entice flies and moths and warbles

that circle the cosmos

looking for the right moment to strike,

or maybe a free lap dance

there’s a guilt trip reigning in my head

while playing pokemon go in an abandoned parking lot

that holds memories of shoppers from xmas past,

as the building burns

and i may or may not be responsible

a limb developed

so i went to the doctor;

who told me i should probably stop limbing

because it was unattractive to look at and made me look pitiful

i thanked the doctor

and went about my day