san antonio
a new poem by Abbie Hart
san antonio
off the side of the overpass
lies a gold’s gym where
the lights in the “l” have
gone out.
we drive home from the chinese
all you can eat buffet in silence.
i violated the most sacred principle
which is the word “can” but
i will not suffer for it tonight.
heat lightning and a house
i am always walking out of.
a little dog with bows in her
hair that will be a different color
when i return.
a hospital vending machine.
a monotonous beeping.
and a five hour flight home.
Abbie Hart (she/they) is a weird fella from Texas. She has been published over 40 times and is the editor-in-chief for the Literary Forest Poetry Magazine. In her spare time, she learns useless skills and thinks about the movie Fantastic Mr. Fox. She has two chapbooks, “head is a home” and “roadkill years” out through Bottlecap Press. Her website is abbiemhart.wordpress.com, and her Instagram is @abbiemhart
