Willie Smith
Willie Smith is the author of several collections of poetry and short fiction and one novel. He lives in Seattle next to the intersection of two Interstates.
Float, too fast for comfort, down through the cloudcover into a cave mouth. Bounce down a tunnel into the cavern where the bat bites my nose and I in a panic succumb to visions of the Thane of Polyurethane, in under a bridge out of the rain, squatted on cardboard, bored as a sheet of wallboard.
The Thane of Polyurethane hunched under a freeway bridge, urinating in the face of Progress. Up on her elbows the ogress propped herself. Spluttered, spitting piss and baby toenails, “This a new development?”