Saint Valentine's Massacre

Poetry today is
I almost typed 'powetry'
across the windshield in bleached sandwiches

sad rest-stop dispensers

huddled you always drop dimes in the snow
dream the cat lady
is eating out of a cat dish
on the floor
her rear raised

you won't post this it's what you feel
walking the mall, holding non-permanent
tattoos in Target bathosphere

you'd go on a crime tour of Chicago's
Saint Valentine's massacre
real cold glamor squared