(Originally published by Horror Sleaze Trash)

in the crowded room waiting

waiting on the second

nerve pill to kick in

surrounded by

young

old

black

white

men and women

I don’t think the old black women

are here for a vasectomy

it is a gender fluid world now

so I could be wrong

maybe they have trouble peeing

what if their occupation

is that of a degrading dominatrix

specializing in water sports

the inability to pass urine

would be affecting their 

income and livelihood

it could be a tax write off

(Originally published by Horror Sleaze Trash)

your wife asks you to put

a bullet in her head

normally this would be

taken as a joke but

recently she has been in

immense pain and is in

no joking mood whatsoever

trust me I know

I don’t even get a smile

when I speak of Asian

hookers or dog dick

I know it’s serious then

I feel pure guilt enjoying

this ten dollar cigar

and good rye whiskey

while she aches and moans

in bed well before bedtime

I’ve gotten her water

rubbed her back

and put a heating pad

on her as requested

but I still feel empty 

as if I’m incapable of helping

I am making a pork

jowl cauliflower crust pizza

I put the crust on for the initial bake

I try a sample of the cut up jowl

the dog stares at me

I take out a chewed piece

for him to sample as well

he devours it and continues

licking the patio pavement

where it landed

now the fucker won’t leave

me alone and go to bed

with his ailing mother

as a dog he’s a mama’s boy

lays on her legs at night

I have to move him constantly

he also gets up out of bed

every time she rises

here lately with the disease

this has been constant

with multiple trips to the bathroom

as my cigar now burns down

I refill my glass of rye

I’ve become a fan of rye recently

a competitor to my usual bourbon

sometimes more spice is nice

my wife needs to feel

some spice right now

more than I do

as I relight this nub

I am hating myself for enjoying life

I enjoy expensive luxuries

but loathe rich people

to clarify

it’s not the individuals

that I hate

but the state of being

the ostentatiousness

the entitlement that is emanated

granted

there is nothing more pleasing

than a handmade top-shelf cigar

an exquisite aged whiskey

or a meal fit for a king

the satisfaction

flavor and depth of each

exude a pleasure 

that is incomparable

although

I have to work for

my upper echelon vices

sweating and grunting

lifting and moving

laboring and dying

making each indulgent experience

a truly special happening

but to the posh and affluent 

it is a throwaway expense

never truly appreciated

just another

(Originally published by Horror Sleaze Trash)

John was an over the road truck driver.  He had a wife of 15 years named Kim.  He would be at home one week out of the month on average.  Kim worked part time as a receptionist at the Douglas Firm, and as a server on weekend nights at The Starry Eye Saloon.  When they first got married, it was difficult for John to leave out on a run; but now, it’s as if he couldn’t wait to get back on the road.  That’s when Kim decided to take a job waitressing on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night at the town’s most popular strip club.  

Kim was getting ready to go into work at the club on a Friday night when she called John. 

He answered in an annoyed tone, as if he was being bothered, “Hello?” 

“Wow, you answered.” 

“Yeah, I’m about to lay down. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to talk to you for a minute before I go in. Where are you at now?”

“Huh? Yeah, umm, I’m outside of Dallas.  I have a few stops out here, and a few in the city, then I’ll be headed west.”

“Well, okay.  The club job is paying well, but Jim is still flirting with me.”

There was silence, and Kim swore that she heard a female’s voice and also some giggling.

“Hello?” Kim said, in an agitated, yet concerned tone.

“Umm, yeah, I’m here. Sorry. What did you say?”

“Jim keeps saying I’m wasting my talents waitressing. That I should be stripping. He said I have too good of a body not to. It’s making me feel uncomfortable.”

“Look, if he thinks you have what it takes, I say go for it. We could use the extra money. But don’t do anything to jeopardize the job you have now. Jesus, Kim. Do I have to hold your goddamn hand through this too?”

“It’s just that I don’t….”

“I need to get some sleep. I’ll call you in a day or two,” he interrupted.

John hung up the phone, laid back on the pillows in his sleeper, and continued getting what was said would be, ‘the best head outside of Dallas’.  At that moment, John could not argue with such pristine logic.  She was good.  Hell, she ought to be, John thought.  She’s had enough practice.  Plus, the missing teeth never hurt.  He worked one up, and blew it right to the back of her throat.  John gave her the twenty dollars she requested, and a beer for the road to cleanse her palate. 

Kim was having a rough night.  There was a feature dancer in town from Dallas, and the club was packed with horny guys with big cowboy hats, and even bigger belt buckles.  She was running from the bar to the stage, back to the bar, and to the private rooms all night.  A fella named Jimbo in one of the private rooms offered her $1000 to go home with him, which she kindly declined.  Kim knew that her relationship was probably past mending, but she wasn’t going to be the villain in this movie.  

She was out back on her only break of the night smoking a cigarette, when the feature dancer came out and asked her for a light.  The two chatted while they smoked.  Kim envied her confidence, and the dancer’s curvaceous body made her slightly jealous.  The subject of home life and men came up.  The dancer told Kim that she traveled so much that having a normal relationship was out of the question.  Kim spoke of John, and how he was hardly ever home.  She opened up about his infidelity as well, and the two verbally crucified the trucker.  Kim returned to the grind, and the dancer to grinding.

John woke and made the few pickups outside the city and headed to bustling Dallas.  He had been there before and absolutely detested the traffic.  John inched and weaved through a web of highways and exits and made all of his pickups by 6 p.m.  He was ready for a shower and a six pack.  He had a long haul ahead of him to California.  John liked the girls at the truck stops in California.  He thought about all the good times he had with the Mexican girls out there.  He hoped that he could find his favorite.  She was a stacked, black girl, with big tits and a huge ass that he had seen a couple of times in the past.  John loved her enormous ass and how it completely engulfed his cock in the reverse cowgirl position.  He was getting hard just thinking about it.

John pulled into the truck stop around 7 p.m.  It was packed, but he finally found a spot near the back.  He got his change of clothes, wallet, and toiletries, and headed toward the showers.  After his shower, he got dressed and went into the main store area to get him some beer.  John wanted nothing more than to down a few brews and pass out watching his Gunsmoke DVD.  

As he headed to pay for the beer, a sexy blonde in a summer dress caught his eye.  She was looking at the roadmap section near the register.  While he was in line, they made eye contact a few times and John made his way toward her.

“Well, hey there cutie. You’re looking for a map?  Are you and your husband lost?”

“Oh, no.  I’m not lost.  I have GPS on my phone, I’m just looking at these brochures of attractions and places to see nearby.  I’m just casually making my way to my sister’s place in Arizona. I haven’t had the problem of a husband in quite some time. Thank God.”

They both laughed and continued with small talk about the weather, also, how terrible fast food is, and the huge statue of a weiner out by the road.  John wanted to make a dick joke then, but thought that it would be inappropriate, so he put a kibosh on that.  She surprised him when she said, “If you have even half of that then I’m going with you.”

John gave her a devilishly carnal grin and said, “You might just have to find out.  Hell, what’s your name?”

“Sorry, I’m Liza,” she said, as she extended her hand toward John.

He took her hand in his and said, “Liza.  That’s a beautiful name.”

John held her delicate hand and could not get over how soft it was.  He looked down at the tanned hand, the perfectly painted nails, and back up at her flawless smiling face and said, “Hell, Liza.  I have all this beer to drink and no one to drink it with.  Would you like to have a few with me and continue this?”

Liza looked around as if she was contemplating saying no, but with a burst of exuberance, she said, “Get that pint of Jack Daniel’s there and you have yourself a drinking buddy.”

John got the fifth of Jack and they headed to his truck.  John walked behind Liza and watched her ass sway with every stride she took.  He stared at her sexy golden legs.  Her sun-kissed skin shimmered in the brightness of the store’s large overhead lights on poles.  John was used to the company of average to below average women, but Liza was leaps and bounds above them all, and most of all, she wasn’t a lot lizard.

They arrived at the truck and John unlocked it and got in.  He grabbed her hand to help her up, and couldn’t help but notice the absence of a bra.  Her sundress scrunched up in the front, exposing her exquisite, bronzed breasts.  Once inside, John showed her around his tiny, traveling apartment.  She told him it was quaint and homey.  John opened them both a beer and poured some whiskey in his coffee mug.  They drank and talked about John’s job, his life on the road, and his failing marriage.  John found it easy to talk to Liza.  He thought, she’s a beautiful woman, and she actually listens to me.

With the fifth about half empty, Liza turned to John and said, “This whiskey is making me hot.”

“You want me to turn up the AC a little?”

“No, that’s alright.  I know what to do.”

Liza stood as best as she could in the tiny space, pulled her sundress up over her head, and tossed it at John.

“There.  That’s better.  You don’t mind do you?”

John looked up and down the sexy, completely tanned female form in front of him and said, “Hell no. Not at all.  Mind if I join you?”

“I was kinda hoping you would.  Here let me help.”

Liza moved close to John on the tiny twin bed and began undressing him.  As she unbuttoned each button on his shirt, she kissed his neck and down his chest.  She pulled his pants down and continued her kisses downward.  John laid back and Liza bobbed and licked.  She crawled up toward him and mounted.  Liza’s warm wetness enveloped him completely as she took him all in.

Afterwards, they laid there, sweaty and exhausted.  He told her to stay with him for the night, and in the morning, he would get her contact info so he could keep in contact with her.

When John woke the next morning, Liza was gone.  He figured she’d just gone inside to get some coffee.  He noticed a piece of paper with some writing on it and hoped that she’d left her number for him.  John wiped the sleep from his eyes, picked up the paper, and read it.

John, I had a blast last night. Thanks for the drinks. Jack makes me a little wild, so sorry if I hurt you. I have to confess that our meeting wasn’t as random as you may have thought. My dancer friend told me about you. She let me know where you would be and said that I should show you a good time. I sure hope you enjoyed yourself.

P.S. By the way, your wife wants a divorce. Also, you should never judge a book by its cover. You should probably get tested. Liza

Circumstantial

A lot of bad happened to Jimmy in a short amount of time that led to his walk on that lonely, dark road.  He didn’t have a destination in mind, other than a fresh start, wherever that may be.  After his wife had a miscarraige, his whole world broke down drastically and turned to absolute shit.  His drinking amplified, which led to physical altercations with his wife, an arrest, and a pink slip from the factory where he worked.  A court ordered stint at a sober living facility was short lived due to his continued drinking.

As Jimmy walked the desolate road, he pondered the decisions and events that led him to where he was at that very moment.  This frustrated and further depressed him.  He wanted nothing more than to jump in front of the next set of headlights that sped by.  However, the lack of cars on this stretch of road made that plan highly unfeasible.  Jimmy knew that he was damaged and would never be a pleasant memory in anyone’s mind.  He just didn’t see the point in going on living.  He thought, maybe there will be a rocky ravine up ahead.  Then I could just disappear, and never be found.  That thought alone was enough for him to take faster and wider strides toward the darkness in front of him.

A car could be heard approaching from behind and the landscape in front of him became illuminated.  The vehicle slowed and pulled next to Jimmy.

“Hey there friend.  Are you alright?”

“Yeah.  I’m good.”

“There’s nothing out here for miles. Get in and I’ll take you closer to where you need to be.”

“Really, I’m fine.  Go on.”

“Nonsense.  Get in. I insist.”

Jimmy reluctantly got in the car with the stranger.  Jimmy thought, what’s the worst that could happen?  Maybe he’ll be a serial killer, and do the hard work for me.

“My name is Carl,” the driver said, with his hand extended.

“Jimmy,” he responded, as he shook Carl’s hand.

“Where are you headed?” Carl asked.

Jimmy remained looking forward, and said, “West.”

“Ok.  West is pretty vague, but I can get you a little closer in that direction.”

They rode in silence for the good part of an hour, when Carl pulled into a gas station.

“Need to fuel up.  You need anything?” Carl asked, as he got out of the car. 

“No, I’m good.” 

Carl went into the store and returned with a six pack of beer and a pint of whiskey.  He opened the passenger door and handed the items to Jimmy.

“Here.  It looks like you need this.”

Carl began fueling the car as Jimmy opened and turned up the pint.  The entire pint and one of the beers were emptied by the time Carl got back in the driver’s seat.

“Wow. You don’t waste any time do you?  I knew you needed a drink.”

“Yeah, thanks. You have no idea.”

As the two were back on the road, the alcohol allowed Jimmy to open up a little about what had recently transpired in his life.  Carl reminded Jimmy that life had a way of being shit sometimes, but it could always be worse, and that there was a good chance that it would get better.  Jimmy wasn’t in the mood for a pep talk.  He just sighed and continued on the beer.  Carl told Jimmy about a young woman in a purple dress that he gave a ride to recently on the same stretch of highway as him.  How she was at the end of her rope as well, running from an abusive husband.  However, by the end of the ride, he had her smiling and confident in her decision to leave and start anew.

“See.  Sometimes you just need someone else to put it all in prospective for you,” Carl said in a comforting tone.

“I guess you’re right,” said Jimmy, as he contemplated what Carl said.

The horizon began to brighten, as Carl slowed and turned right into a closed restaurant.  There were no cars in the parking lot, and most of the lights on the inside were off.  Carl pulled around to the rear of the building near the back door.

“This is my buddy’s place. I make runs for him roughly two times a week.  He’s not the most social guy.  As a matter of fact, he doesn’t really talk.  I just have to drop off a few supplies and we’ll be on our way.  Come on in.  I’ll see if he has anything ready yet.”

The two of them got out of the car and Carl knocked on the rear door.  A short, fat man with greasy hair and sauce stains on his apron opened the door.

“Bubba. How’s it going? This is Jimmy. Can you fix him a couple of your famous sandwiches?”

Bubba grunted and gave a slight nod.  Carl showed Jimmy to the counter in the front and pulled out a stool for him.

“Bubba has the best barbeque around. He’s been in the paper and even on the local news.  Look at all these awards,” Carl said, as he pointed at framed pieces of paper above the counter.

Jimmy looked around, nodded, and said, “That is a lot. Smells good. I am pretty hungry.”

“Here it comes now.  You’re going to love it. I have to get some items out of the car so he can open up in a few hours.  Eat up.”

Bubba placed two huge barbecue sandwiches in front of Jimmy and he didn’t waste any time digging in ravenously.  Through the order window, Jimmy watched as Bubba and Carl hauled bags of items into the kitchen and walk-in cooler.  Carl poked his head through the square opening and said,

“Pretty good, heh?”

“You weren’t kidding.  The meat is so tender and the sauce is the best I’ve ever had.  Everything is terrific.  I can see why he has all those awards.”

“I told you.  Hey, when you get done, do you think you could help us move a pig from the cooler to the smoker?”

“Sure thing.  I’m about done.”

Jimmy used his last bite of sandwich to sop up the remaining sauce on his plate and leaned back in his stool, full and content.  He took his plate to the back and Bubba motioned for him to put it in the sink.

“Bubba, if I could give you another award for that meal, I would my man,” Jimmy said, as he patted his stomach.

Bubba let out an appreciative grunt, and shook his head in acknowledgement.  Carl came through the back door with another bag, placed it on the counter and motioned for Jimmy to follow him to the cooler. 

“It’s a big fucker.  Might take all three of us,” Carl said as he opened the cooler door.

Jimmy entered the dark cooler and the door slammed behind him.

“Quit fucking around!  Open the goddamn door!”

Jimmy beat on the door and continued yelling in the pitch-black cooler.  Moments earlier Jimmy thought he wanted to die, but now his instinct of survival took over.  He continued beating on the door to no avail.  He started feeling faint and dizzy and staggered around the refrigerated death trap.  Jimmy was losing consciousness and realized he must have been drugged.  He located a pull string and a light illuminated the cooler.  He couldn’t believe the horrific things he saw.  Bags of body parts and buckets of blood surrounded him.  Jimmy lost his footing and fell to the cold floor.  Just before everything went black, he looked into the lifeless eyes of the girl in the purple dress.  

That day during the lunch rush, a dad and his son, who were traveling through town, sat in a booth next to the door. They finished their meal, and the dad told the waitress that it was the best barbeque that they had ever eaten. Before leaving, he left a glowing review online.

Jimmy had made a lasting memory in someone’s mind after all.

(Originally published by Horror Sleaze Trash)

Harold was planning on making homemade bread, which he loved to do, but was about a cup short of flour.  He used a recipe that he found online with 298 reviews, with an average of 4.9 stars.  The loaves had always turned out well for him, so there was no need to deviate from this tried, tested, and true recipe.

Harold would normally ask his neighbor Molly, but he knew that she was out of town at her mother’s for the weekend.  His only other option was the new neighbor Gary.  Everyone in the neighborhood knew that Gary was on the sex offender’s list, because they were notified when he moved in, but no one knew exactly why he was on said list. 

Harold wasn’t one to judge, and believed that everyone needed a second chance.  He wasn’t going to pass judgment on someone that made a mistake in the past.  Harold thought to himself that it was more than likely a huge misunderstanding between an old girlfriend or something, with only their word of events taken into account. 

Harold locked the door behind him and walked over to Gary’s.  As he approached the porch, he recognized the colorful day lilies and camellias in the front flower bed.  Harold thought to himself that Gary had extremely good taste and was a master of color coordination.  The swing on the porch, beside an elephant ear plant in a large pot, gave it a homey feel.  Harold thought that Gary just might be his new friend. 

He opened the screen door and knocked.  

“Just a second.  I’m coming,” Harold heard from inside.  

He then heard footsteps approaching, and the door opened. 

“Well, hello.  Can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m your neighbor Harold.  I live in the blue ranch style house right next door.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve seen you out in your front yard weeding your flower beds. My name is Gary, but you probably already know that.”

“Nice to meet you Gary. I see you have some beautiful flowers yourself there.”

“Thank you very much. I have a young Latino man at the market that has been a total godsend. He has taught me so much.”

“Well, the way you have them arranged is just brilliant. I may get your assistance someday if that’s okay.”

“Of course. I’ll do what I can. Lord knows, I need all the friends I can get. It’s been really trying lately, but thankfully, all of that legal stuff is behind me.”

“Well, that’s good. I can’t imagine how hard it must be.”

“Believe me, you just don’t know. What brings you over?”

“Goodness, my apologies. I am about to make some bread, and unfortunately, I am a hair short on flour. Would you happen to have a little to spare?”

“Of course. I believe I can scrounge some up.  Come on in.”

Harold followed Gary into his living room.  It was so pristine and organized.  The tidiness almost made Harold jealous.  There was absolutely no clutter, with seemingly everything in its place.

“Wow, you keep a spotless home,” Harold said, as he marveled at the immaculate neatness that surrounded him. 

“Thanks. It’s mainly just me in here for the most part.  I’ll have guests in here on occasion, but it’s extremely rare.  Let me get that flour. Make yourself at home. Would you like something to drink?”

“That would be nice. What do you have?”

“I have water and a few sodas, but I also have some imported beer and a great wine selection.”

“Well, if you’ll have a glass too, I’d love some wine.”

“I couldn’t think of a better time to open a bottle than right now with my new friend. Which do you prefer, red or white? I have a luxurious Malbec from Argentina that’s a must if you like reds.”

“That sounds tremendous. I love reds.”

“Excellent. I’ll be right back. I keep the wine in my basement.”

Gary took out a set of keys and unlocked a padlock on a door near the hallway.  Harold thought that it was a little strange to have the door locked with a padlock, but he just assumed that he had an expensive wine collection, and possibly other valuables down there.  Harold just sat on the couch and looked around, still in awe of the uniformity of everything. 

Gary was gone for about 5 minutes when Harold stood and walked near the door.  He thought he heard Gary talking, mixed with other muffled noises.  He couldn’t make out the sounds clearly, but they closely resembled a rustling mixed with whispers.  This sparked his curiosity.

Harold took a few steps down and called for Gary.  There was no answer, and the mysterious sounds suddenly stopped.  He descended a few more steps down and noticed what looked like cage material.  Only the bottom portion of the cage-like structure could be seen, but Harold swore that he saw what appeared to be feet. 

“Gary. Are you okay?” Harold inquired in a slightly cracked tone.

“Yes, I’m here. I decided to grab two bottles instead. I have them right here.” Gary said, as he came around the corner and swiftly up the stairs, as if to usher Harold back up. 

Once both were out of the stairwell, Gary shut the door and went to the kitchen to open the wine.  Harold could hear Gary opening the bottles and getting down glasses.  He was confused, yet intrigued by the previous events.  Harold wondered what the strange sounds were, why Gary was talking, and what exactly that was that he had seen. 

“You are going to absolutely love this Malbec,” Gary said, as he entered the room and handed Harold a glass.

Harold swirled, sniffed, and sipped the red.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. This is spectacular.”

Gary put on some light jazz, and the two sat enjoying their drinks.  They made small talk about the neighbors that lived close by, the local farmer’s market, and the different cafes in town.  Both realized that each were vegan, and the conversation flowed effortlessly between the two. 

Halfway through the second bottle, Harold got up the nerve to ask about what he had heard and seen earlier. 

“Gary, what were those sounds that I heard from your basement?  I swore that I saw what looked to be feet behind cages.  What was that?”

Gary shrugged, shook his head from side to side, grinned, and in a nonchalant tone said,

“Oh, don’t mind them. That’s just my suffering suckboy stash.”

Harold took a long pull from his wine glass, placed it on the table, and casually made his way down the stairs to the basement.

(Originally published by Horror Sleaze Trash)

late one night

outside a dingy bar

where my band played occasionally

and I was a bartender part time

punk, metal, and eclectic bands were featured

vibes were usually laid-back

however

frat boys and trouble makers

would sometimes show up

to watch their friends play

get drunk and start shit

I stepped outside

a muggy southern summer breeze

made me instantly sticky

people were milling about as usual

laughing, talking, smoking, drinking

this bar was near the corner of several gay bars

the gays were milling about as well

one ignorant fuck in attire more suited for a brunch date

starts talking loud about

“all these fags”

in earshot of a six foot four

black transvestite

The word fag

was not well received

the white boy was maced

blinded, pissed, embarrassed

his ego hurt more than his eyes

he attempted to fight to no avail 

then chased and beaten

with a removed six inch stiletto heel

begging for mercy but there was to be none

just a bloody mess on Conti Street

he should have known better

because under that wig

that dress

that makeup

there was still a big black man

fag or not

coincidentally 

an old school hoopty with windows down

rode by playing… 

‘More Than A Woman’

(Originally published by Horror Sleaze Trash)

I have always known the word ‘cock’

as a term referring to the penis…or 

member, pecker, schlong,

prick, phallus, peter, dick,

shaft, tool, johnson, willy, 

stick, wood, dong, meat,

weiner, boner, rod, wang,

peen, ween, tallywacker, jimmy,

skin flute, organ, and private part

etcetera

I have never known the word ‘cock’

to be a reference for vagina

until today

listening to an old school hip hop song

I heard 2 Live Crew sing the following 

“What you like fellas? 

head, booty, and cock”

COCK?

did I hear that correct?

then I heard it again

there was no mistaking

they in fact did say cock

this sent me on a several hour

google research mission

I found evidence of numerous artists

from the 80’s and 90’s

using the word cock to refer to

female genitalia

I was absolutely shocked

some of these songs

I have heard more than a few times

obviously I just glossed over

the mention of cock or didn’t pick up on it

I dug in deeper with my research

pulling up forum after forum

where this exact issue was discussed

a little history lesson was learned

it seems that since the 17th century

the word cock referred to the male genitalia

then sometime between 1920 and 1940

cock became an African-American slang word for vagina

possibly derived from cockles

a cock opener was a penis

the dictionary of American Regional English states

‘at a point roughly the same as the

Mason-Dixon Line, there is a division in meaning

to the North cock refers to male genitals,

but in the South its use is restricted to

the female genitals

Missouri is a border state in which

both meanings are used’

I guess that explains why Missouri

is the ‘show me’ state

you know…just to be sure

I sometimes wonder what

my neighbors think of me

obviously they are 

completely oblivious

to the genius writer 

that lives next door

one that has been published

online and in print

who gets virtual

and real life compliments

from respected

editors

friends

and writers alike

the only one on the

entire street sipping

Rare Breed

Eagle Rare

Laphroaig

Ardbeg

or a random single barrel pick

the only one toasting sticks like

Padron

Ashton

or Arturo Fuente

the only one piping

small-batch releases

from a hundred dollar Savinelli

a true cultured motherfucker

enjoying top shelf luxuries

that they could never

understand the depth of

or truly appreciate themselves 

but in all actuality

to be completely honest

they are probably thinking

something to the effect of…

I hate living next 

to that son of a bitch

he never speaks

he is always out back

drinking and smoking pipes 

or those stinky-ass cigars

not too mention all the

obnoxiously loud vulgarities

when he is cursing at flies

he may be genuinely crazy

touché neighbor

touché

on the way home from work one evening

I had to take the causeway instead of the bridge 

due to a wreck in the tunnel

toward the end of the causeway

I noticed multiple sections of bras

hanging on little two foot high clotheslines

there had to be approximately 500

sets on a roughly one mile stretch of road

however

all of the bras seemed to be

extraordinarily small in size

it’s like people only wanted to sacrifice their bras

if their daughter had outgrown

her training bra or something 

I was able to snap a pic while driving

but was not happy with the result

a day or two later riding with my wife

I told her to go back home via the causeway

I wanted to get out and get a good picture

but when we got to where all the bras were

they were gone

and so were all the little clotheslines

I told her about all the bras that were

there just a day or so earlier

she said

“yeah, it’s breast cancer awareness month”

I replied

“I thought that was February”

she said

“no, that’s black history month”

then I felt like a huge boob

Anthony Dirk Ray