"Metaphor poem"

Rebel Without a Corndog

Outisde of Supercuts,

James Dean walks up

to a wall and pulls out a bag.

It reads: Hot dog on a Stick.

I shift in the plastic chair

and look at my mom inside. Out-

side, sweat on our brows,

sweat on my palms.

Corndog in his hand.

The heat becomes fog. My eyelids

open, shut, open. I can see

my mom inside, her hair

being lopped off. A tap

on my shoulder; blue-eyed brunette

in red leather hands

me a hot dog.

I don't see my mom inside.

Behind me, a slap over

my head, the corndog

out of my hand

into my head.

Forever dipped in my brain

matter: James Dean, a stick

and a hot dog.