Dairy Queen Ghosts
the spiders won’t even crawl on this brick wall
they stay home with their spider wives and reminisce on
the goodflys and goodbyes they’ve said to different people
this town is a graveyard shift with no end and i’m walking
Among the ghosts of this dairy queen parking lot
and i swear i can hear laughter
i can almost see you 5 feet away with a sly smile on your face
but i’m the only one around
all the others here have already left town
but i’m picking through the skeletons so i remember
what it feels like to feel the sun hit my face at just the right angle
in that garbage car my friends lived out of for six months
the way you used to lie to me and tell me that these days
were the kind that we would have forever and that never was an anomaly
and we would never get there
all this road is just fucking bones and empty beer bottles
i am drunk and sober/ bruised all over
the asphalt comes up to greet the soles on my feet
they hit like a drum but its off beat
and maybe i’ll join the carnival as a not so funny clown
to joke about the trauma like i always do
and even a million miles away i’m sure i’ll miss you in the exact same kind of way
but at least the scenery will be different
Estefania Munoz is a Mexican poet who never quite knows what’s going on. She’s been
published by Kleft Jaw Press, Punch Drunk Press, and some weird anthology she submitted to in high school. She enjoys doing small illustrations, drinking black coffee, and pretending to know what stars belong to what constellation when she clearly does not.
Featured Image by Martin Reisch
Punch Drunk Press 