North Dakota Oil Fields

by Steven J. Serafiani

I smoke in my garage in cul-de-sac draw and
think of North Dakota oil fields. I got

gloves. Work gloves to flesh those
fields of black deep gush. I don’t have

kids or wife or needs. Able-bodied man
with gloves without a drop. Whiskey flask

in flannel pocket. Break with hard hat roughneck
converse sit on dirt. A brow sweat

glisten. A hydraulic fracture hum and
bob of brute pump jacks. These gloves are

too pristine. Need North Dakota oil
field small town bar apartment. Take up

with a Suzy. Splay gloves on coaster wood in
deep caramel North Dakota night. Drink in

fortunate no bound thought. Whiskey
earnings and jukebox banter. Fuck

Suzy into deep geyser eve. Work
gloves folded on dresser. Wake up

to greet the Williston sun. Hands into gloves
now for an oil field tough.