Alexis Fancher
I give $20 to a homeless family looking for a roomhe says he is looking for work when I go to shake his hand he says, “don’t squeeze” I make them promise if they come up with another fifty and do get a room, to please look for my cat and describe her as, “fat, white, with a pink collar....” they promise eagerlythen disappear and I slip further into haphazard grief….
Dollar Tree I nearly sob in aisle 3 where the cat treats are Dollar Tree you have never produced a decent snack or a decent employee Dollar Tree you are the religion of impermanence and hollow plastic dreams I see my reflection in a storefront window and know I am deranged spite, sweat and TV-commercial dreams comfort me at the Motel 6
I am trying to sell the saxophones of a dead best friend I am trying to extend check out time (everyone loves you when yer dead, Joe but very few would love you to yer face....) for three days I have been flat on my back with moths flying out of my ears…. Joe, your face your shape your sneer against the plain white wall haphazard photos stuck to a purple poster board with Dollar Tree glue a dish of cat food sits in front of the poster board untouched
number Nine / 2020 •
135