the last vestige of tiki
camped on a helipad
after small town carnivore lights
I could spend my night at rural king
or listening to I-70 lights roar
across this nowhere june tundra
instead I crawl into a corona
carla limes them salts bottleneck
professional bartender gauntlet
she's been at this for centuries
I count the hayseeds
think about nicotine
time stamped into the grass skirts
that may be the last vestige of tiki
left in this motel lounge
she left this town for philly
as soon as she grew wings
bounced around holiday inns
with private dancer as soundtrack
acquired all the merit badges
service time affords
she's been rubies and diamonds
she's been gold club
but the city will wear on a heart
the service industry takes what it will
so she left it and a no good man
to come back home
bought in on unincorporated land
dark skies and nowhere
far enough from the ghost of her memories
she keeps company
with a man from another small town
somewhere dusty like oklahoma
where they only drink
tomato juice and budwiser
sometimes both if the devil
found his way for a visit recently
tonight it's everyone's birthday
off kilter and out of key
if it were friday or saturday
a band of shitkickers
might stir it up
nothing personal just frustration
kentucky comes next
dipsy doodle foothills
dots of towns wade forgotten
more inventories of years ravaged
years of appalachia left for dead
I cash out after I hit my limit
tip amounts to the check
carla and I wish each other luck
back to the helipad
roar of interstate in my hair
I’ll sleep deeply tonight
wrapped in the red of wildflower smoke
About the Author: Jason Baldinger is a poet and photographer from Pittsburgh, PA. He is the co-editor of Trailer Park Quarterly and co-runs The Odd-Month Reading Series. He’s penned fifteen books of poetry the newest of which include: A History of Backroads Misplaced: Selected Poems 2010-2020 (Kung Fu Treachery), American Aorta (OAC Books) and This Still Life (Kung Fu Treachery) with James Benger. His first book of photography, Lazarus, was just released. He has two ekphrastic collaborations (with poets Rebecca Schumejda and Robert Dean) forthcoming. His work has appeared across a wide variety of online sites and print journals. You can hear him read from various books on Bandcamp and on lps by The Gotobeds and Theremonster.
Image Credit: Carol M. Highsmith “A rather sublime-looking tiki head stands outside the gift shop of the old Ranchero Motel in the tiny settlement of Anteres, Arizona, in Mohave County along U.S. Highway 66” (2018)
As It Ought To Be 