99c dreams

99c dreams

The empty shelves sing, ivory tusks
against snow-razed backdrops,
children with hollow-wide smiles /
picture perfect teeth, and, beyond
the prismatic world of the photo
frames / entrails of dust.

the cashier at the 7/11 never meets
anyone’s eyes / wears a jacket
that stopped being cool in the
1980’s, when you ask him
what he wants out of life /
he’ll say he’d quite like to
drink until his heart stops.

we pass the boarded windows /
the broken traffic light round Coward St,
the car park / everything here reminds
you of streets you’ve already been on /
hospital beds in the form of clouds /
graffiti that reads: WE’RE REWRITING
THE BIBLE, a gum ball machine
promising candy that’ll make
you eat-your-dreams.

i keep returning to this forsaken
place / it’s like whenever i try to
get away from it / i only seem to
be growing steadily closer /
as if my body’s destined
to be buried here.