Behind the Scratch-N-Win
Lotto machine and underneath
six cartons of Virginia Slims
we consummated our 20-minute
relationship in half the time.
We experimented by pouring
blue-raspberry Slurpees alternating
with hot black coffee.
I won’t get into what we
did with the Creamsicles.
Or the sticks.
We got into the Hostess racks
and smeared Twinkie cream
and fruit pie innards all over
our naked bodies.
We got into the cooler
and did naughty things with
frozen burritos and chocolate milk.
We did it again in the
baby food/magazine/feminine hygiene
aisle. Three customers walked in
and you told them you’d be right
with them, as you pulled your pants on.
I smoked a cigarette as you rang them up
and thought to myself,
“I only came in for directions.”
Jessica S. Frank is a poet from Wisconsin. She has been published in a few small journals that closed, and then a few more that are still open. She was an Artist-in-Residence at Arteles (Hameenkyro, Finland) in March 2015.
Eunoia Review 
Reblogged this on Passing The Peaches and commented:
As I was reading this, I imagined the whole scene; I laughed to myself because I felt the rush of fun that I read.