S. Allen Moore
bio

Old Brick Buildings

In the back, behind the blue wall,
-- wait, green wall, flaking paint,

yes, really peeling like a good sunburn,
of an old gas station, or,

an old ice cream hop shop,
now a gas station, where ice cream

still flows from the pump,
sometimes vanilla, sometimes butterscotch,

and the fat little nubs, the round kids,
come to suck on the pumps, insert their credit cards,

and the paint is still peeling,
flaking off blue no, green,

flat flakes of lead, a deadly dandruff,
flaking from the ice cream gas station

where kids all come to suck the pumps,
fat little kids, sucking the vanilla butterscotch,

unleaded, high octane, even though
it doesn't make a damn difference,

and then there's a dog, an old hound dog,
because one sentimental cliché is okay,

brown and white, sitting in front of the shimmering
glass door, and he growls at the kids if they try

to come in, and has a dead bird in his mouth,
dripping grease, and never eats it,

just holds it in his mouth, and growls at the kids,
which is why they use credit cards,

and the green paint, or blue, keeps flaking,
like an orange, or maybe a lime, a blueberry,

but no, it keeps peeling,
and the state of California knows the danger,

but the kids sucking banana butterscotch strawberry chocolate gas,
they haven't a clue.