Across the counter Brooke listens. Sporting a whore black dye job, Brooke’s pasty freckles turn to St. Helene’s ash under the neon lights. Her candy apple lipstick makes you wonder what she packs under grandmother’s navy sweater. Arms crossed. Wire rims slid down her nose. Bangs sliced straight across her eyebrows.

If my dignity weren’t in question, we’d chat to see if her favorite group was Slipknot. Did Marilyn Manson really need more money? Instead we go toe to toe. She reports with the non commitment of Peter Jennings that my bill was cancelled due to a clerical error.

Behind me, another lady clutching her cash grabs the form in Spanish- panicking that they will take her car if she doesn’t see PAID IN FULL stamped in red. Brooke would feign a smile at me, but it’s against policy. When I was a kid, Dad butchered a cow and left the head on the pole to rot. It fed the flies for weeks.

I buzzed away and Brooke went back to see if someone spoke Spanish.

out of one eye with two or
one eye with one

Long blonde locks peeking ever so
teasingly over that one eye, drifting away
look
down and up at you at the same time
No secrets-her name isn't Candy or Victoria

Two weeks ago a full maiden form winked that
her daughters dance in Spokane
at the Stateline bordering Coure DeLane
newly wed couples’ haven pounding down
beats in the club or pounders in the heat

Furious stirring clinks me back
Dreaming doesn't change the fact that if she orders
the cancer free glass eye, Candy will sip tea, look out the window-
wonder forever about one lump or two.