Kool-Smoked By The Gods Poem by Shannon Walker

Kool like the flow
Of an island glacier
Covered in snow,
Like peppermint candy,
Schnapps as opposed to brandy,
Or a line of blow.

Kool like a Zippo lighter-
That badass gasoline smell,
An ashtray from the Lamplighter
On the California coast,
Just north of San Luis Obispo,
The crutch of every screenwriter.

Kool like James Dean, Buddy Holly,
Jimmy Hoffa and the Teamsters,
A fifty-seven Chevy,
Fuzzy dice and four-on-the-floor,
A 283 cubic inch roar,
Decca records and Elvis Presley.

Kool like the City of Detroit,
Its gritty concrete skyline,
The proud rebellious unemployed,
Discarded and left behind,
Forsaken and blind-
A mother's love and Sigmund Freud.

Kool like the grave when it's all over,
The smoke and the spirit
Both floating over
That concrete ashtray,
And then flying away
From its smoldering enclosure.