The High Price of Gasoline Again: Poetry Edit.

A milder version of this called “Gas Station Owner” was written around July 10, 2008.

Today’s Edit (2022). I don’t know if this version is better or worse.

The Price a Gas Station Owner Pays

The price is set from on high;
the price is too high,
yeah, we know, we know.

The detectives took the swabs,
made the photos. We’re
allowed to wash the blood
off the gas pumps

The Newspaper gleefully
took pictures of the death graffiti,

graffiti to dishonor my wife.
Art critics called it “price gouger”:
daring neo-Marxist street art

Gasoline only earned us hate.
The kid hadn’t come in,
took the day off (too scared)

Cookies and crackers
made us
a little money —
customers think
we’re evil rich

The kid
didn’t show up for the night shift.

My wife took over:
thought her smile
would have to work
like a lightning sale
on an angel food cake,
potato chips, and special
candles for a birthday sale
soda

The detectives took the swabs
made the crime scene photos,
took samples. I’m
allowed to wash her blood
off the gas pumps

Put up a sign:
closed for
the high price of murder

The Medical Examiner soon
will make her into objet d’art pieces
until then…tragic drama

I can’t  bury her
until the critics name her,
a mob condemns her, and

I can’t bury her
until they pry me off her corpse
and close more oil wells for the cause

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