south high street


half-drowsy colors forming

eighteen-wheelers that aren't there

a blend of stop lights and street signs

rough fumes of fog slip through the air

vent. ten-two drifting to seven-five to

six hours passing by faster than ... then

second hand thoughts of ill-composed

sentiments, the grass greener on the other

side of white lines and rumble strips the

asphalt rips away at my awareness

originally published in volume 9.1 of Outrageous Fortune.