George Franklin

 

The Fina station on the road to the airport
Glowed in the dark like a shrine
To the god of petroleum. Sometimes,

We watched the planes come in low
Over the fence, their landing gear and
Tires practically parting our hair.

Denny’s served Kona coffee and
Pie everyone said wasn’t half bad. There
Are drive-through daquiri shops now

Where barbeque pits used to smoke all night.
The Carousel Lounge on Kings Highway
Rotated while business men in suits sipped

Beer and looked at themselves in the mirror.
Frat boys from the college would usually fight
In the parking lot, vomit on the cars.

 

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George Franklin is the author of two poetry collections: Traveling for No Good Reason (winner of the Sheila-Na-Gig Editions competition in 2018) and a bilingual collection, Among the Ruins / Entre las ruinas, translated by Ximena Gómez (Katakana Editores), as well as a recent broadside, “Shreveport,” published by Broadsided Press. Individual publications include: The Lake, Into the Void, The Threepenny Review, Salamander, Pedestal Magazine, Cagibi, and The American Journal of Poetry (forthcoming). He practices law in Miami and teaches poetry workshops in Florida state prisons.