January 2006 /Volume Seven / Issue One
Linda Wandt
Right Place Right Time

stomping the pavement of
downtown Austin
on a Thursday night
almost time for the cops
to start rounding up the frat boy drunks
pissing on parked cars
displaying animal kingdom hierarchies
and habits for the females
just cause my hair is down
and my shirt is tight
doesnít mean Iíll trade some tongue
for a slice of pizza
itís late and Iím hungry
the guy keeps insisting I can eat for free
the bourbonís saturated my bloodstream
suddenly making the situation and the loneliness unbearable
itíd been nice and numb a minute ago
I kick at the counter with my too worn leather boots
jump up and down the wallet chain at my side
clanking violently
like a busted glass jar of coins
I call the vendor a cocksucker
tell him to shove the slice up his ass
before I slam it upside down on the counter top
I guess he was expecting less
not expecting me,
cause these days
my patience
is zero