Closing Day at the Old Drive-In

Originally published in MO: Writings From the River, Volume II, Issue 1, p.122

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Phoenix, fly now above the country flock.
Appalachia oozes through pores, but as every week before,
To mix with Hippies like tar and feather.
Arriving separately, they come together to seek their bargains,
Hurl themselves there, and stick.

But this is a Sunday for sin. No more
Garage sale trash for a dollar. Bead bracelets
On clearance beside small baseball bats exquisitely made
To teach what for. On the lot next door, the big chain
Licks its lips, readies the city for concrete indigestion.

The old drive-in is empty. Every last flock left
With their beads, bats, and junk. Blankets and tables
Are lost. The old white screen comes crashing down.
Phoenix, fly east to the tunnel, leave the smell of plaza pep,
Turn from the orgasm of autumn’s changing colors.

3 thoughts on “Closing Day at the Old Drive-In”

  1. I like your poem and the way you used the words to represent the flow of change. I am a transformational poet and write about the spiritual journey of upheaval. You can read one of my poems and view my book cover and support me with a comment at or visit my web site at Here is a line from one of my poems: “Nature’s lesson teaches nothing is forever and all undergoes change… Nature whispers it’s time to move on.”

  2. Hey just wanted to give you a quick heads up.
    The text in your post seem to be running off the screen in Ie.
    I’m not sure if this is a format issue or something to do with internet browser compatibility but I figured I’d post to let you know.

    The design and style look great though! Hope you get
    the problem solved soon. Many thanks

    1. Hi,

      I have looked at this page a few times in IE on a few different screen sizes and do not see what you are describing. Is it still happening?

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