Rough Customer by David Spicer

I never intend to insult or harm
anybody when I’m drunk in this
half-lit slum-palace, but when my
space is invaded, I’m like a wolverine
in an igloo: that frenetic guy banging
on the door better not offer me his sales
spiel—much less a high five. Is it
Clyde, the dope-dealer clown again?
Well, I’m naked now, my teeth
are punks, and I have to roll pennies
for some kerosene before nightfall.
He’d better split and take that poison
back to his squat so I can drape towels
around my chest and waist.
What’s he and his blue bandanna want,
a slurred invitation to leave? It’s Ohio,
the factories are empty, and I’m
drinking the last bottle of Bordeaux.
My home’s not a way station for him
\or his enemies. The harbor’s north,
so he’d better not hamper my hygiene!

David Spicer
David Spicer has had poems in Chiron Review, Alcatraz, Gargoyle, In Between Hangovers, Your One Phone Call, Ploughshares, The American Poetry Review, and elsewhere. The author of Everybody Has a Story and four chapbooks, he’s the former editor of raccoon, Outlaw, and Ion Books and is scheduled to have From the Limbs of a Pear Tree (Flutter Press) released in the Fall of 2017.



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