Alyssa Trivett (Western Voices 2020)

Exclusive: Western Voices, 2020: Edited by Scott Thomas Outlar

Bio: Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. When not working, she chirps down coffee while scrawling lines. Her work has appeared recently at The Rye Whiskey Review.

Jukebox

He flips car cup change into the Jukebox,

it spews out hopeful lines

like vomit below a rollercoaster,

ridding of one’s sick bits from their system.

He slams the glass and grabs a beer as

I’m still on martini number one,

not that I’m tallying ‘em.

The clock ticking hour of

flying saucer comic bubbles

continues on.

And people whirligig spin on their chairs.

I redirect back to tunnel vision

and listen in.

He clutched my pinky,

and stared at his beer mug ring,

as I choose instead to now pile-drive coffee down,

it’s my only vice, anyways.

***

The Wi-Fi is Still Jacked 

I will run downstairs and remove

all plugs from their outlets

only to set all the kitchen utensils

back in their drawer organizers

as they head to bed.

I shall siphon three cups of java

down my coffee burned throat and

ding-dong-ditch all

seven neighbors on my block,

while I walk the dogs and

lay flat all of the broken

toothpick fence posts out

and realign them.

Then, only to kick rocks at

car windshields with a thread-size

crack in them.

I’ll fix the router with my retail dry hands

and change the Wi-Fi password to something

so obscure not even our mail carrier

who steals packages will

be able to guess it.

*** 

The Madness in Grief, Late 2017

  

…and I can’t explain it unless,

or I will at least attempt.

Think of your mind running around

on a train jackhammer hopping on

steeltoe broken tracks while

wearing stones around your neck.

You have a construction worker pissbucket

as your only friend and the walls

of royal blue paint begin to bleed again.

Even broken piano keys shrill.

It’s a seventy-five water ride drop,

but once you get to the bottom of it

and exit the automatic car door

you will realize there is so much

more to live for,

as your heart kickstarts and the

yellow Van Gogh sun rises, again.

Setu, April 2020