Crossroads

Crossroads

Jukebox, there, you open

with a church key. Press

that freebie button. Play

as many songs as you like.

Bass presses you into dirt,

pounds your chest. Little

     sprigs of grass vibrating

near your nose, you're prone

     as a platypus: Hat's bill

     flapping up and down:

Set your cap. Sun beats

on you: Beat down like rain

     no more. Record changes

on the platter: "Violence

of the sun" and the rest: No

more "crimson shell." Nod.

[narrative]