Popping the Tires
the suspect sits in the interrogation
room and the only thing they say is
“can I get three orders of chicken
fries and extra sweet and sour sauce”
and I’m pretty sure Robinson’s about
to lose it. It’s been so long none of us
can remember what this kid got hauled
in for in the first place. Every time
the secretary suggests we call to see
if chicken fries have, in fact, returned
to the menu, that vein in Robinson’s
temple gets a little bit more prominent.
Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in London Grip, Sage Cigarettes, and Sin Fronteras, among others.
