Ben Newell

St. Tropez Tan

to my dishwashing job
when I see
a big-ass beer truck
parked outside Walgreen’s…


The driver mops his brow
with a handkerchief
then hoists another
backbreaking case.

He hasn’t found his
and something tells me
he likely never will—

As for me
the only water on the horizon
is mixed with
commercial-grade detergent
and sanitizer.

But I’ll keep getting shit-faced
and dreaming
of hot sand beneath my feet
as topless French women
beg for my autograph.

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