Just spent the last of my pennies
on a half-smoked cigarette and
a twenties street poem in the
form of a duet.

Then I sprawled out in the backseat
of Jack’ s old yellow taxi,
Told ‘em to take me to Wyoming,
But he told me to quit my whiskey-roaming.

Haven’ t seen my keys since last week,
So, I guess I’ll just let my fists bleed.
Found the note you left on the counter ,
so I packed my bags and took a downer

And I drove to that interstate motel
I found a stray named Michelle
She kept your side of the bed warm
Until I kicked her out in the morning

I’m just too wasted for the highway,
got an overflow in my ashtray.
And I keep hearing your dial tone
Since you told me, you needed time alone.

Haven’ t seen you since mid-July
So, I’ll just let the ride keep me high
Like the smell of Maker’s on my lips
That night, I told you I'd be home by six

And I still go back to that interstate motel
Swing open the door and start givin’ hell
to the image of you strumming that guitar
and singing that song about a blue star.

Locklyn Wilchynski is a poet, fiction writer, and musician from McComb, Mississippi. She has just finished her tenure at the Mississippi School of the Arts as a literary student. Her work has been previously published in literary journals like The Phoenix, Nine Cloud Journal, Car Crash Mag, and Refractions Magazine. She has also won many state-wide awards like The William Faulkner Literary Competition and Scholastic Art and Writing Awards.