Blue Line
Where are you
if not on the Blue Line
to Revere Beach.
I don’t know
what we did before then.
Kelly’s is closed.
The seagull
with the meaty chest
just shit on Billie
twice. Maybe you’re reading
by evening light
or matching your
bra
& panties
to the canal houses
in Amsterdam.
Often
I am seen
looking
everywhere for you.
That’s the main
occupation
of middle life.
Gimme a goddamn break.
The flying horses
are gone
and the sun
won’t post parole
till noon.
Damon Hubbs is a poet from New England. Recent publications include The Gorko Gazette, Revolution John, Be About It Press, Horror Sleaze Trash, and AEOS Magazine. His latest chapbook, Skins Under the Hammer, is available from Bottlecap Press. He is a poetry editor at Blood+Honey and The Argyle Literary Magazine.
