Eric Cockrell

bird droppings on the windshield
of an old car that wont start
radio blaring the news
an execution, a robbery, another

meth lab, shovel ready jobs.
people without faces speed by,
cell phones stuck in their ears.
behind closed doors, the clock ticks

where to go from here?
the groan of survival,
cardboard boxes and trunks
renting life, three months past due!