Pam Ward



she detested it

right down to the

ride up there

counting Dennyís

signs and cars

broke down

that fake

Aztec look

of the suburbs

it reminded her

of thin




rotten tile

the smokey

dead smell

of motel rooms

and why

she left him

for good

she thought

that time

all those busted-up plates

stacks of

ripped pictures

her good dresses

shoved in the trash can

how he called

her again

and again

till she finally

picked up

his voice

in one smog

oozing plea

and the only

thing worse

the only thing

worse than that

dry separation

was being

with him now

on this hot

vinyl seat

on another

long ride to

his motherís