Construction Sites

by Allison Mack

She exists as a construction site.
Penetrating conversations the way a jack hammer rapes the concrete.
Smell her sticky tar, the burnt rubber of a false start imbues itself in hairs lining your nostrils.
She dumps a bucket of her solar powered presentation over your newly lain tarmac,
Hoping to seep into the cracks of any unfilled space;
any porous hole.
Accept the brine of fear that constitutes impression.
Right here is the destruction, construction, de-construction zone.
On the corner of Sunset and Doheny, Gil Turner peels fluorescent caution tape she uses to brazenly strangle herself.
Mistaking the flimsy plastic for a steel coat of amour.
Her gentle tongue encased in the ear of an iron canal.
A mosquito draws blood from the unsuspecting reservoir of platelets,
She will inhale her hit of validation at 6 in the morning on a welfare Wednesday.
Just steps from the window she dissolves into cashmere hot springs
The reptilian skin sweats fervently.
Her dance careens head over heels, she cartwheels into a tumbleweed of excess.
Sweet delusion.
Lovely lady, losing love leaves so many holes to overfill.
Overflow in the midst of chaos and flirt with the truth as you would a married man in a dive bar on a Tuesday night.
“Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”
Her overly friendly grandfather sweats gin on the palm of her hand, calming the nerves of falsity as the ice reminds us of the delicacy inherent in relating to temptation with a splash of inhibition coupled with a twist of lime.
Steamroll the bumps that cause dimension and depth.
Flatten til smooth. Even.

Add yours Comments – 9

  • joshknepper

    on December 8, 2013 at 2:24 pm

    Woah – intense

  • Beth

    on December 9, 2013 at 5:36 am


  • 3tesla

    on December 9, 2013 at 1:58 pm

    “She exists as a construction site … Steamroll the bumps that cause dimension and depth.”

    A very deep metaphor, that! Are our ‘bumps’ good or bad? ‘Quirks’ that enrich our personalities, or ‘defects’ that annoy others? Thanks for sharing.

  • jbrande55

    on December 9, 2013 at 3:40 pm

    Like something from The Beatnik Era .

    • 3tesla

      on December 10, 2013 at 2:50 am

      Yeah, I found myself reading it with that kind of rythym – it was fun (or should that be ‘cool’?).

      • LanceN

        on December 10, 2013 at 5:14 am

        hip man. (snaps fingers in his beret)

  • fayth78

    on December 9, 2013 at 9:38 pm

    i love this poem 🙂

  • LanceN

    on December 10, 2013 at 12:09 am

    Still thinking about this one, which is the best thing. This is intense. Sweet delusion.
    Wow. I agree with jbrande55 it does feel beatniky. I hear your Chet Baker in the background.

  • Antonio P

    on December 12, 2013 at 10:02 am

    Your writting is so deep and beautiful. It’s intense.
    I just loved it, congrats.