Two Poems by Doug Draime

Dream From Motel 6

Drunk, and having no memory
how I got there:
the only passenger
in a front seat of an
out of control Greyhound bus

A 300 pound man suppose to be driving
black hair slicked back
dressed in an Elvis
blue sequined jumpsuit
and with white boots
slumped/ passed out
or dead
over the steering wheel
which was
bouncing in tiny zigzag patterns
pressed with the weight of his body
speeding down
Market street
headed pell mell
for the Wharf and
off and over the end
the Pacific devouring
me, the Elvis impersonator
and the 5 ton machine

When I woke up
I was drenched in sweat
and there were
skid marks
from my feet
deep into the mattress
but I was alive, and ravenously
hungry for deep fried shrimp,
cole slaw and several
ice cold beers



For All The Fakes, Flakes, Lairs, Betrayers,
And Ball-less Wonders Over The Last 40
Years In The Small Press

My heart
forgives you
but
my
middle
finger ( now
in
your
dead or
dying
faces)
I am
sorry
to say
has a
life
of its
own