The Official Website of Aaron K Crocker

Curiosity Doesn’t Always Sneak Around Killing Cats

On Friday nights

she puts on Ariats,

clouds of smoke,

clanking shot glasses.

She prefers to recline in a dryer chair,

pink lemonade.

At the gas station

practicing checkers,

a pitcher of sun tea. Between lips–

bedsheets hung out to dry

through a tiny hole in a

sturdy backyard fence. A brick

church, polished pews,

she tilts her head,

listens–

                silence.