dave roskos, three poems

the gas station attendants of spiritual bankruptcy

teenage boy
on lower east side
sits next to a squatter girl
on the sidewalk across
from Tompkins Square
& says several times
“Do ya wanna see
where the needle goes?”
“Yeah,” she says finally,
“show me where the
needle goes.”
he pulls up his sleeve
& proudly puts his index
finger on the spot.
then he gets up
& runs away,
to cop.

the gas station attendants
of spiritual bankruptcy
pump petrol into
blown out veins,
speak a language
of venipuncture.

“Squat or rot,” she said,
preparing another shot,
& wiped her sleeve
beneath her nose,
smearing it with snot.

what’s a lonesome junkie boy to do, when a junkie girl wants to shoot & screw?

pierced pussy
tattoo lady
sunk a syringe
into my 4 arm
& smiled knowingly
as I fell back
on the bed
from the

tying herself up
& off
after a quick
ritual bleach

don’t worry
it doesn’t hurt
red brick suicides
concrete countenance
heroin halo
power line smile

Adam & Eve

I woke up ejaculating in her mouth.

We both lay naked
in a field of marijuana bushes.

Our ship was broken
on the river’s edge
pulled up onto shore
with a hole in its side.

After we had cum full circle,
she sighed
& stretching her ample form,
began to cry.

It was the only way she could get herself to come.
She would frustrate herself emotionally
& frantically finger her clitoris.
Then she’d come.
It saved me the trouble.

I got up & kicked a grapefruit.
It bounced off the side of the sun
& a tree grew in its place.

“let’s cultivate some of this hemp,” she began,
still fingering herself, “I’ll make some rope
so we can tie each other during sex
& then we can hang ourselves.”

“sounds like a plan,” I replied,
“will ya hand me that fig leaf.”

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