Drunk Trip to the Kentucky Derby
with the Sleaze Men
Linda Webb Aceto
Shall I tell the story?
How I came to with
stagnant fumes pooled around me,
stale beer,
cee-gar smoke,
and gaseous wastes
spurned from their over-wrought bellies,
balding heads, fat soaked
and glistening
from that slick back grease they all used.
And what with one of them humping away on me
like tomorrow might never come.
(God, I hoped he hadn’t.)
I thought I might puke from the stink heaved up,
still stewing from the night before.
