Iowa boy

six feet tall in your construction vest,

with teeth in Aryan white and

hair a color straight out of

a cornfield a little west of

here, Iowa all-American boy,

how did you get to be working

at this airport in this shitty job

with no benefits

you keep your own high-school yearbook

picture framed above your bed

someday you will talk about your "glory days"

for now you will sweat as you take out the trash

it's a longshot
he says
and circles all the right numbers
in dark ink pens

sometimes you simply
run with it
let the odds
work out of your favor

Cigarette Haiku

Sell yr clothes
100mph, 5 hours long
Cry twice, Smoke 10

foolish

i am existing on

potato chips

coffee

and the belief

that i'm going somewhere.

i haven't left the state in months

the country in years

and dreams only take me

two hours north;

standing in the doorway of your room.