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Poem: “The Turnpike”

2013 November 22
tags: ,
by Mike Vial

“The Turnpike”

Rain pounded my
windshield,

melted green mountains
against a gray sky,

like Monet’s
brushstrokes across

a framed canvass:
His dangerous landscape.

I was one of two
cars stopped

at an emergency
pull-off.

Our pairs of hazard lights
blinked off-beat

against the rain’s
steady staccato.

That goddamned storm
wouldn’t pass,

it too—
stuck in place.

We fought it out alone
together,

anticipating our next
destination.

November 22, 2013

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