Acrid Homes
Drips into
metal pans
leaving
chemical
traces
from
the
hard-swollen
rain.
metal pans
leaving
chemical
traces
from
the
hard-swollen
rain.
The smell
never
fully scrubbed
away.
The staunch memories
of flophouse
nights
hit me
like
flashbacks
of drugs I’ve never
done.
And I wonder if
the 9-5 conformity
was ever worth
the sacrifice
of always
having
a cheap
drink
and a free
cuddle
from some
punk laid
out on
a love-stained
floor.
This contributive camaraderie
never as tight
as the
warm embrace
of a one-shoed
man
wearing a
Dorothy dress
and dreaming
only
of
the next day.
The paint always
peels, bubbles away from
the wall
Full
of roof-water
or
mold
or
pain.
--Jessica Gleason
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