Filling station flowers…

You have seen them wrapped
in purple paper neatly
arrayed in stepped,
almost elegant displays
near the entrance.

You have walked past them
dozens of times to
pick up a pack of gum,
two scratch off lottery tickets,
a cellophane bag of pork rinds,
twin fried, glazed apple pies
in wax paper wrappers,
cheap cigars in plastic tubes,
a twelve pack of imported beer
and bottles of a nationally
advertised sports beverage.

You have probably asked yourself
the same question I have asked
untallied times, “Christ, what
kind of loser buys flowers
at the filling station?”

After a brief scientific
survey, with a five
percent margin of
error, I answered
this probing question.

Losers with sharp,
careless tongues buy
filling station flowers.

Losers just like me.

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