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.