The Alley

by John Rocco

Without trying and without an idea of trying
I drive straight down Nightmare Alley.
The old metal trash cans are stuffed
with bodies and murder weapons.
The concrete is a mosaic of blood and dreams.
I’m looking for the caged bird
kidnapped by a collection agency
but all I find in the Alley are
old movie actors struggling to stay alive
pumping bullets into each other
slugging whiskey
getting grilled by the cops
and the Devil thumbs a ride.
I’ll never catch the bird again
unless I can drink the shadows
and piss them out as sunlight.


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