David Estringel

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

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