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Gun Buck Before Dawn-Fiction by j. brooke
Grunt-Fiction by Kevin Z. Garvey
A Stab in the Dark-Fiction by Gary Clifton
Run, Robby, Run, Part 2-Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Surprise Me-Fiction by Cindy Rosmus
Here They Come-Captain Jack, Part 2-Fiction by Michael S. Stewart
Evolution=Crime-Fiction by Calvin Demmer
Bike Killer-Fiction by Doug Hawley
Home on the Range-Fiction by Liz McAdams
Tickets to Heaven-Fiction by Paul Heatley
Free-Flash Fiction by Andrew J. Hogan
I Hate Dave Matthews-Flash Fiction by Carolyn Smuts
The Journey-Flash Fiction by Oliver Lodge
Running-Poem by Meg Baird
in your shoes-Poem by J. J. Campbell
At Midnight-Poem by Sergio Ortiz
Roadkill-Poem by Rachel Doherty
Skinny Dendrix-Poem by Joe Balaz
poet-Poem by ayaz daryl nielsen
Shy Dryad-Poem by ayaz daryl nielsen
Someone Else's Cat-Poem by John Doyle
Sundays-Poem by John Doyle
Farewell, Bibi-Poem by David Spicer
Rolling Down the Highway...-Poem by David Spicer
No One Ever Asked Winslow This-Poem by Gregory E. Lucas
The Adirondack Guide-Poem by Gregory E. Lucas
Why Back to Gloucester, Boys?-Poem by Gregory E. Lucas
Cartoons by Cartwright
Hail, Tiger!
Angel of Manslaughter
The Gazing Ball
Strange Gardens
Gutter Balls
Calpurnia's Window
No Place Like Home
ALAT
Dark Tales from Gent's Pens

ROLLING DOWN THE HIGHWAY IN A CADILLAC 30 MILES WEST OF BUTTE

 

by David Spicer

 

 

Your disgusting feet smell

like oysters! Coco erupted,

driving the ’54 Eldorado

convertible while I played

“Will O’ the Wisp” on the trumpet

in the back, my legs propped

up against the front passenger seat.

Do you know that if I eat a lemon

now, the lack of stink will

castrate me? I asked. Headed

for the west coast, the two of us,

afraid of boarding airplanes, eat

a bag of plums, bananas, and limes

all day. Think we’ll make it

to the Russian Roulette party tonight?

Coco inquired, her coils of brown hair

blowing underneath her cap. Don’t know.

I’d rather watch silent movies

about cannibals in the White House.

Yeah, me too, Coco said, or play

computer Scrabble, tossing the red

baseball cap that read Make America

Laugh Again onto the road.

Well, decide: we drive through the state

today in silence or I paint my nails

pomegranate before we hit the sack.

We could duct tape each other’s mouth,

I suggested. No, just cover

my nose or wrap your feet, dildo.

 

 

 

 

David Spicer has had poems in The American Poetry Review, Ploughshares, Gargoyle, Yellow Mama, Rat’s Ass Review, Reed Magazine, Slim Volume, The New Verse News, North Dakota Quarterly, Chiron Review, Alcatraz, Easy Street, Bad Acid Laboratories, Inc., and Prime Number, among others. He has been nominated for a Best of the Net twice and a Pushcart, and is the author of one full-length collection of poems, Everybody Has a Story (St. Luke's Press, 1987), and four chapbooks. He is also the former editor of Raccoon, Outlaw, and Ion Books.

In Association with Black Petals & Fossil Publications 2017