by Todd Mercer
Me and Ingenue
cross the distance of the city
on the surface roads. A couple blocks,
then stop, we roll
a couple blocks more.
This ain’t the speed round.
Don’t waste worry,
we’ll get there when
night falls from under-slung clouds,
while you tap your watch’s face
certain of superiority, while you vent
and stew, Ingenue and me
are living better, cataloging
truth on the ground you’ve missed
from the vantage of the
sometimes-efficient toll thruways.
We’re a mile out, in-bound,
humming with soul, seeing all
and blessing the details.
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You've really captured the moment in this poem. I love to travel on side streets and take the back roads. It's amazing what you can learn about an area. Great job!
ReplyDeleteWow!
ReplyDeleteI can hear the sound of the tires in this piece. Very rhythmic and evocative. wow.
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