ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS FIRM.

ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS FIRM.
by shannon baker
volume lights your vowels
to learning
shapeless under tame.
he lost his darkness-glasses somewhere
between 43 and 50
and pissed in the handbag.
and flared
drilling bliss-stones.
cheapness in the weather
had her basking dirty
full of
mismatched bathing
suit of flowers
nothing to take home.
close-down the
blindkid
draw-up some
contracts
and i’ll tell you
what i saw.
roots struggle into
her eyes metal presents
foil all the dumpster plans
gulped hard toward revolution.
i swear i thought
this room was empty
when i smoked the last
opium
in the concrete corner.
it was either
drugs or rent
and you could bet
love and wisdom
on that decision.