Lovelock, poem by Michael N. Thompson

The gulley behind the bowling alley

is a graveyard of rusted bicycle frames,

soda pop bottles and busted kites

Refinery boys march with matching lunch pails

and the chagrin worn is as plain as day

Most of them knocked up the girls

they knew from high school

and spend every weekend

working on muscle cars

that will never leave the blocks

Regurgitating the same bile

into a meat grinder

gets passed from fathers

down to their sons

Anything beyond blending in

with the rest of the herd

is seen as treason

The closest thing to gentrification

came when some fat cat

footed the bill for a new jail

Before you know it,

the years slip by

like dust between fingers

Despite its name,

there’s nothing to love

about Lovelock

Michael N. Thompson likes bacon, fantasy football and Doctor Who. His poetry has appeared in numerous literary journals including Word Riot, Toronto Quarterly and San Pedro River Review. He is the author of four poetry collections, the most recent being A Murder Of Crows (University Of Hell Press, 2014). His next collection, Days Of Swine And Roses, will also be released through University Of Hell Press in 2017. Michael currently resides among the pastures and pines of Northern California. http://www.michaelnthompson.com/