How much longer is this road?
How many more potholes, roadblocks, detours, and bridges out?
Asphalt damn near worn out,
tree roots kicking up pavement
in crumbling
black
(fake) rocks, axle-breaking craters
swallowing tires, front end knocked
out of alignment, wheel demanding
undivided attention,
rain pouring down into loose gravel,
“no trucks” signs ignored
like that girl in high school
who sat in the back
and didn’t talk to anyone
(You don’t even remember her name,
just that sad sweater pilled up
like a used brillo pad.)
Doesn’t matter.
All roads lead to roam
except the interstate.
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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