Mad Max lady-children of divorce surround the rusty ride. Striving towards more, but there’s not much future after this photo shoot unless Pirates of the Albuquerque Mesa is a real thing.
Magic there? Oh yes. But more like that creep master Chris Angel kind of magic, not the child-like wonderment kind of magic.
Tricks are cool when they’re hot and get your temperature rising, but the Photoshop wizardry dust bowl overtime hits the fans with more drama than initially thought possible.
I like when cars are put together like Grandma’s quilts. Blue square here, red square there. Also reminds me of the guy I used to buy LSD from in the 11th grade: “Blue squares are $10, red squares are $20.”
Come to think of it, how did you get this image? What the fuck? Summer of 2001 I took wayyyy too many squares, and this image, this exact illusion … this was my oasis. Are you NSA? Do you have a camera in my brain? I mean what the fuck is going on here?
I thought it was safe to come outside and play. But it’s not, and it never will be. Time to go underground, back to coloring outside the meridians. Now where did I put that shoddy crayon sharpener?
Prewitt Scott-Jackson’s work is a mutation of sorts, a ménage à trois of poetry, prose, and flash fiction. The University of California alum grew up on Southern storytelling and thusly his writings are “based on a true story” (which means that roughly 33.3% actually took place in real-life life).
How Can I Help?
You would think a jalopy comes with breaks, or that its buyer knows the intricacies of a carburetor, so as to find pleasure in the maintenance of such an acquisition.
You would feel far more comfortable driving given a warranty for parts and service, but you’d feel none of the thrill of a rickety ride down a highway that needs no name.
Stupid: stupid to have overlooked the color of the nozzles at the pump and filled up with Diesel instead of gas. No one gave a shit at the self-service.
It doesn’t matter where we are as long as we are rescued.
I once had a love and it was a blast. Soon found out I could not have any more kale for dinner and that the upkeep for tattoos and eyewear was a bit too much. Ergo, no cell phone.
Juan Pablo Laso has recently grown fond of twitter and has listened to multiple poetry podcasts
My 2 Minute Response to Your Twitter Challenge
by Tonya Twatblock
I’m a whore like that.
That picture of the girls around the car.
I’m a whore just like that.
Neither decent nor better, but like that.
It is what it is.
I am what I am.
You see what you see.
You call it how you call it.
You jerk it to what you jerk it.
You pay because you jerk it to what you see.
What you see has been assigned a name, a point of reference and a bulls-eye.
You shoot because you don’t know what else to do with your wad.
I’d rather be a whore than a consumer.
I’d rather be anywhere than here in your gaze.
Bio: Tonya Twatblock is your friend.
Editor's Note: we believe "Tonya Twatblock" is a "nom de plume"
Editor's Note: these are the first "decent or better" responses we've received to a Twitter Challenge the Queen Posed. if you'd like to add something to this post (500 words or less) please send it to other[at]queenmobs[dot]com and I will give you a healthy yes or no.