Street Gum
First published in No Tribal Dance, An International Anthology

The stars have beaten
dusk out of town.

I am alone with a hot
bottle of vodka,

watching the full moon
from the cracks

of the pavement.
It looks how I feel,

chewed up,
spat out,

trampled flat
like street gum.



This poem features in the collection:  White Knuckle 

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