even the stars are dead
I was in my twenties during the final years
the mad and starving walking in the streets
waiting in lines while we sat inside
until it got us too
and even Frank Ocean was digging graves in the cemetery behind the Volvo dealership
while all the others were at JJs oyster bar down the street
wiping cocktail sauce off the tables
and the rest of the stars - they’d been dead for decades. centuries!
and left us to watch raccoons in the trashcans and neighborhood kids trying to get the cat out of the gutter
and the deer in the streets running around free with the traffic all gone
strange men walking in the forest near the golf course where the caddies all camp - they’re scared of the men too
bunch of dogs with no collars running through the parks
and the newspapers printing Beware the Midnight Dogs!
graffiti on the restaurant windows and forget the nightclubs
and the only flowers left were dried between book pages or tied in grass necklaces hung over door handles
but no one was too sad
you could still drink beer on the porch under pecan trees
listen to Lee Moses yowl on the radio and eat bar-b-que takeout from a paper bag
ash your cigarette in the pool and look up to watch the moon burning
neighbors next door outside too, lounging in lawn chairs and looking over
to raise a final toast
turn it up! they said
Yow!
Tucker Cowan is an M.F.A Candidate in Fiction at Texas State University. Previously, he worked as an assistant in Hollywood. He is from Texas.