Bowling Alley, 2006 by Marisa Silva

Black light special:

I’m neon green, my shoes magenta with electric

tangerine hearts. I painted them thinking of you.

You’re chatting up the girl behind the counter.

She dazzles you with her cotton candy smile,

and Corona colored hair—while dishing out crusty

popcorn. You swagger back, tuck her number

in your back pocket—smirk and wink at me.

I’ve sunk into the gutter, already crushed.

Marisa received her  M.A. in Poetry from the University of East Anglia. Her work has previously been published in Pussy Magick, Constellate, Ginger Collect, Awkward Mermaid, Mojave He[art] Review, and Anti-Heroin Chic.

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