Yep, more poetry. Not very pulpish or adventuresome, but it is rather dark, and it's another one I'm quite fond of.
My poetry and early short stories are available in Gomer and Other Early Works.
Swooning beneath the weight of Utopia
Two girls threw themselves from the overpass last night.
The paper had nothing to say
Of their goals, the desperations, their drives,
Only that one was an honor student
And that they both died before the ambulance arrived.
The older girl died instantly,
Crashing her sacrificial form through
The windshield of a man driving to visit his parents.
They were minors, so
They must remain nameless, faceless
(More palatable for the delicate
Tastes of the civilized world),
A pair of everywomen, no-women.
We are the dirt of this island called humanity;
Each one's death should diminish us, we know,
But it is only dirt, we tell ourselves,
And there's more than enough of that to go around.
Besides, there's a happy story
About a clown and a hospital
On the next page.