Sticker price

Clouds walk


on stilts  through a city and


Jigsaw  pieces of


Mud.            Thickens.            Forever.


They  peddle  rain until  rust is  spilled

Completely   on    chrome   for  him  to


E   X   A   M   I   N   E.


Until   there is no gas  left to



with. . .


He   remembers a  radio  played song

and  trunked   luggage  kept in bottles

of aspirin to take with empty canteens,


Missing puzzle pieces of a marriage.


Church  bells and borrowed  friends.


A lost love  dancing  like sky  art.


A sticker price.


Copyright © 04/15/2014 lance sheridan®

Sticker price

6 comments on “Sticker price

  1. stolzyblog says:

    PS – have to thank you, Lance, for the tour you’ve been making of late around several of my older writings. Means a lot to receive this kind of attentive reading. 🙂

  2. Lona Gynt says:

    This poem sidles up to me slyly. It is like a little quantum of Joycian stream, a snapshot of what happens in our ever-addled minds, bouncing from an image to a memory to a person and all bound in an enveloping sense of regret, until finally an evocation occurs, a symmetry with a meaning that the old car, the mud, the marriage, the loss, and the moving on gets rendered, like fat, to an insoluble essence – namely, a transaction. We are left with a debriefing, and a question “what can we mean to each other?” It is with a strange brew of sadness and terror and realpolitik that it comes down to a “sticker price.” Once again – a great poem Lance.

  3. Lona Gynt says:

    I am always amazed by the range of your art. Your poetry visits every little corner. It is a joy to read your work, each little corner changes me a little. Thank you Lance

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