Friend Red Truck, I will follow you
to the ends of the earth
or exit 199, whichever comes first.
Yes, I saw that blue Honda
try to come between us,
like her headlights
could ever reflect on your bumper like mine.
Away, little Civic, to the back of the line.
You don’t have the horsepower
to overtake Silverado,
and you’re not squeezing your tight little chassis
between my sleek silver body
and that decadent red bed,
nor edging out
that girthy green jeep hot on my seat.
We bonded way back, across the state line,
formed an interstate clique,
became ride-or-die,
and we are the mean girls of I-85.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.
Intertextuality is my passion.
Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.
My words are mine, not a robot’s.
MA English literature, CofC
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