Rialto by Michael N. Thompson

The waitress in Pinky Tuscadero hot pants
and a Ralph Furley silk shirt
at the turnpike truck stop
takes my order with a drawl
dripping like molasses

Lipstick-stained cigarette butts
gather in her ashtray

I get the impression
that I’d be well-advised
not to call her Flo

A not so hard number
leans against his Monte Carlo
in the parking lot

Hissing and leering
at the late night girls
gets him nowhere

Donut shop habitués
wearing available eyes
are probably more his speed

The continual chemical stink
of methamphetamine labs
hangs in the air

It’s no wonder rooms at The Oasis
go for twenty bucks an hour

Welcome to Rialto

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. His fifth, Days Of Swine And Roses, will be released through University Of Hell Press in 2017. Michael is currently at work on a crime fiction novel. http://www.michaelnthompson.com

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