On America, for two young Aussies on a road trip

We seldom see, do we,
once the great veil of radio love songs
and movie cliches has fallen behind
the last hulking mesa,
the last cloud inked in impossible magenta

and the road

illuminated code of Morse wanderers;
white line on fog lights off
and the red-blue red-blue
of sleeping sharks.

Once, dawn red and bloodshot in Texas,
coffee stain lips and no sleep,

in the bakery parking lot,
and the smell of grease

I saw her teetering beneath the weight,
mythic vagrant,

America collecting cans
on a spur of the I-10

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One Comment on “On America, for two young Aussies on a road trip”

  1. Iris Orpi says:

    Amazing. It’s like an impressionist painting, in words. Wonderful!


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