Offtime Poem by The Poet SPIEL

i'm so distracted counting hickeys on the cashier's necks
i have a hard time choosing my burger combo—especially
on mondays after a weekend of the local's wild love-making

around here hickeys mean true love
juanita has the most hickeys and hers are the darkest
they run from her earlobes to her clavicle

i've seen her boyfriend sniffing her
he's the greasy dude in charge of fries
she does a pretty good job on his neck too

when hickeys turn greenish-yellow
they make my bowel rumble and make it hard to think
of enjoying a nice super-size order of fries

in between sucking hickeys
these local women spend their offtime combing their hair
and making their fingernails real fancy

the men use up their time polishing the chrome on their cars
and scrubbing their hubcaps real nice
then airbrushing flames on their chevys

some folks say there is no culture around here

i say there is