That Time You Took a Pick and Shovel and Swore You Were Going to Excavate the Living Heart of Wallhaven, Ohio

By | 15 September 2022

You posited gremlins in the asphalt, pixies
under the counter at Nervous Dog, a plurality
of health code violations hidden beneath
your burritos decebrados. Somewhere, you
said, in the sewers under Whole Foods
it resides, and by gum, you aimed to find
it, cut it out, eat it still beating with a gremolata
poached in an orange construction barrel.
In preparation you placed stacks of Marshalls
at every manhole, pumped She Walks Crooked
at maximum volume, knew you had just
a few minutes before the Woods of Fairlawn
residents reported you for noise violations.
The last I saw of you was on the ladder
in the middle of West Market in front
of the Fairlawn Taco Bell, tools strapped
to your back, headlamp ablaze. You would
approach, you said, from outside the perimeter,
a bottle of retsina in each hand, and follow
the aborted Google Fiber cables until you found
the core of the beast. The sun rose, my
bourbon is gone, and if I eat one more
seven layer burrito things will get messy,
and still there is no sign of your return.

This entry was posted in 106: OPEN and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related work:

  • No Related Posts Found

Comments are closed.