The Missing Link

Let's go down to the Missing Link
Where blood & vodka's the favorite drink
The club is known for its dark decor
And the wannabe vampires at the door

The booths are filled with freaky chicks
And their latest tattooed tricks
Fishnet stockings, torn & black
Turn every homeboy into Drac

The band sets up inside a cage
Then bursts into a sonic rage
Synthesizers screech & wail
As if some inmates broke from jail

Slinky babes shake to the beat
Their milky necks so long & sweet
Spooky sex is on our mind
Long before our turn to dine

Let's go down to the Missing Link
Where blood & vodka's the favorite drink
The club is known for its dark decor
And the wannabe vampires at the door

Landslide

Some poets roll boulders uphill.
I'd rather ride a landslide,
digging my spurs into plummeting earth.

The Oakies

The Oakies lived up the hollow
in a windowless tar paper shack.
Sheepdog haircuts marked them as Clems
when they came into town to lounge
and spit and size up the stealables.
Their granny controlled
the phases of the moon.
Her hexes caused warts
in annoying, private places.

William Robertson is a freelance writer from Duke Center, PA and has be published in numerous magazines and anthologies in the U.S., the U.K., Canada, Romania, and Australia. HAYFOOT, STRAWFOOT: THE BUCKTAIL RECRUITS, his first novel, cowritten with David Rimer, will be released in 2002 by White Mane Publishing.