Joplin, poem by Michael Thompson

Once the war ended,

there wasn’t anything else to do

except play the horses

and hoist a few pints

at Tinhorn Flats

where the sticky surface

of no-pest strips

hanging behind the bar

are caked with flies

Waiting on long shot lives

to come in,

those who take themselves

far too seriously

rarely reap rewards

and tenacious is their resolve

to never stray far

from embedded roots

When factories pack up

for alternative lodging

just like a circus tent,

the sales of cigarettes

and grain alcohol increase

while matrimony collapses

under the strain of a bleak future

Crumbling down inside,

pinball wizards and gallery queens

litter the boardwalk

every Saturday night

until verbal fisticuffs

lead to race riots

If there was a casting call

for those who are afraid

to succeed at all costs,

the entire population of Joplin

might just show up

Michael N. Thompson is the result of a debauched threesome between Neal Cassady, Anne Sexton and Darby Crash. His poetry has appeared in numerous literary journals including The Montucky Review, Word Riot, Toronto Quarterly, Lummox Press and The Hobo Camp Review. He is the author of four poetry collections, the most recent being Verbal Alchemy (Blunt Trauma Press, 2012) and the forthcoming A Murder Of Crows (University Of Hell Press, 2014). Michael lives among the pastures and pines in Northern California. He doesn’t care much for meter and rhyme. His website is www.michaelnthompson.com