Death Flight by Alex Garant
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AmericanaLonging for the desert days,
spending an afternoon with you, at the casino—
sleepy by the hotel waterfall.
I used to dream about your leather jacket
and mirrored sunglasses,
and how you once told me
that even you were beautiful.
You’re out on the dry roads
chasing firefly trails, and collecting sea glass.
Do you miss the old thrift stores with red window paint?
Where’s your whiskey heat?
The soft brown leather of the corner booth in the lounge?
The slow drags of your cigarette, circles of smoke?
Memories playback on Super 8,
tangled in balloons and silver streamers,
flickering like an old neon sign.