Texas-Louisiana Border Dive Bar
By Brett Hanley
I’m talking to the mortician, and I tell him I hold
my breath every time I drive by a funeral parlor.
.
His is the one on the main road, and this bar
is on the main road too. Corona’s half off.
.
I bite into a lime, and the mortician’s head floats
like a balloon off his body, bounces when it hits
.
the ceiling, and then sails back down into place.
The front door opens and lets in the daylight.
.
Our eyes are fault lines before they ease up
when the dark rights itself upon us.
.
There’s a slot machine in the corner that speaks
in bible verses. A serpent loops itself around my ankle.
.
My beer starts to taste like the blubber of an oil spill.
The slot machine says we shall be redeemed.
.
I lift my shirt to show the mortician the tattoo
on my back. He tells me he prefers a blank canvas.