Thud

September 1, 2011

A dream

perhaps a memory

what’s the difference

asking now

 

Silly questions broke

silence, resting

above the water

tires barrel through some other state

 

Every time it rains

in all directions,

blind sight and swollen

fingers guide the wheel,

space between the line

thud thud thuds

of reflectors met spun rubber

 

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