From the upcoming book of poetry “Brillo Pads at Midnight”

Twenty Four Eight*

What if I need Brillo pads at midnight?

The sink looks like Hiroshima

and the air feels like a spider web sprayed with grease?

Thank heaven for 7-11.

Donuts at night; hot dogs in the morning,

and Brillo twenty-four seven.

Don’t need to comb my hair.

Don’t even need to wear a hat.

Day and night don’t matter there.

That’s good, ’cause I might need money.

The morning paper-mobile driver might stop

and demand cash.

Might need some Unguentine

or a Bud,

or some Tic-Tacs.

Twenty-four seven.

That’s my world.

The lights don’t go off.

You can get gas.

Deposit your check.

Drop the video in the slot.

CNN’s covering insecticides

and SUVs.

There’s a ball game from 1974 on.

And some preacher talking about eternal life.

Eternal life.

The preacher says it’s beyond this life.

God, that must mean it’s twenty-four eight.

© 2003 John Thornburg

*I thank the Dallas-based artist Pamela Nelson for this provocative image of eternal life.