Young When the Sun Went Down

by Clay Hunt


Richardís red Nissan Skyline GT-R
rolled up, his hand hit the horn.
Irene rushed out, her head down.
Her acid washed jean shorts, white crop-top, and Teva sandals
lifted his brows.

As he looped around the drive-way,
she leered at the front screen door and saw Gene
pace by, smoking a Marlboro Red.
She saw the calicos circling their food bowl
She tucked her wedding ring
deep in her purse and pulled out a bag of weed.

She thought about their 5-year-old daughter, Glenda.
Mom will keep her for the night.


Poetry

Budget Press Home