A Dollar Twenty
it’s 2017 and I owe the library a dollar twenty.
I forgot four books at once
but they don’t talk about it at the checkout.
no “hey look it happens but if you don’t pay us back
you’ll never read Stephen King in this town again.”
Consider me a villain.
Give me a franchise.
Miss Sayonara and the Book of No Return
and the reVIEWS, darling!
Box Office Anti Hero Stuffs Two Dollars in Envelope
Bloody Insignia Indicates Unstable Temperament
Non-Returner Repents
Book Bandit at it Again
Library Seeks Revenge
she owes a dollar fifty.
That’s it? I’ll give you three.
Take my dreams to the laundromat
show me the muscles of your forearms dry
here’s the chipped yellow grass you can water with sepia tone
dye this landscape burnt orange like those teeth in that Western
read me the trash about galloping abs
you want a dollar fifty?
I raise you my space ship
pirate ship indigo baby dragon
majestic brown horse washboard nihilists
will they won’t they modern friendship
psycho brawler dream thieves
bank bullets shooter boots
a black cat a salt circle
a weather woman shoots rain from her eyes
into the neck of a hipster
and I return to you with these stories.
Eva Moe 