Last Days
by Liam McKee

I lost myself in the last days of desire
knowing I'd soon pass from men's eyes,
and walk the streets of this dear old town
a ghost.
I stayed out all night, roamed bar to bar,
man to man, chatting them up, draping an arm
and steering them off their rebuffs -- the song
and dance of a traveling salesman.
I wore pinwheels on my shoes,
a coo-coo clock behind my zipper.
I picked up speed. I asked yes? no? I moved on.
Faster and faster, a souped-up jalopy gunning
until doors tore off, bumpers tumbled away,
the flame-painted hood flipped up and over, exposing
the bare heart of the engine.

Copyright 2021 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.