Gold Amex

Gold Amex


The city glitters like a gold Amex. 
A guy lifts his shirt and shows you his scar.
You lose your ID. The palms rustle. 
Someone asks if it’s Tuesday
and a blond fixes his brow
before dipping a dollar 
in the last of the blow.
He fingers your gums. 
The guy with the scar leaves.
It’s midnight. Somewhere
American jocks do deadlifts 
and play video games. 
Pupils shot. Mouths slack.
Chugging from their cups
with such boredom they spill. 
On their perfect stomachs. 
A whole circle of them. 
Groping their shorts and yawning. 
That room everyone hates
and wants to stay in forever.
Watching them win.
Watching them kill.
Passing out with clothes on again.
(Beginning of summer.)
Pretending you’re smarter.
Pretending you’ve grown up somehow.