Evening Machines
Painted ladies duck
from fiends under velvet skies,
‘round corners and doorways,
as God’s chosen saves
souls of passersby and
dogs in search of scraps.
Shirtless boys show’r girls
on stoops with shucks and jives to
clanking coins in cans
of bums, patrolling
slices of concrete, splashed with
piss and hot dog wat’r.
Street kids linger ‘round
fronts of liquor stores with fists
of cash, cruising dupes,
for ill-gotten smokes
and cheap beer before managers
close shop for the night.
‘lectric lines crackle
and neon signs hum above,
overseeing the chain-gang.
***
Originally published in Terror House Magazine
Horror Sleaze Trash 
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