The Road

The road slender (like her wrist)
Holds the car
That holds the girl
And fourteen cars in two hours driving
Are all that can be

The drive (through blind terrain) is solid-night and the out-air cold
But the molten blowing
On her here face (younger than it seems) (nicotine)
Reminds her
All is well (warmth)

But sleep is in the air like fatal words
And fleeting (waves) and rubs (knuckles) her eyes
The road is dark and nightly
And sleep too slow to surprise

Her hair (the truest copper going) is heavy falling
On her coat so new brand-new
And her balance (chin meet chestish mostly) getting lazy
As sleepens pays its due

Minutes skip to hours
And roads to nappy things:
A mom that’s plainly flying
Laughing daughter it would seem
Brisk films come fast sporadic

So wake and shake of head
But drive she must fanatic
At so-and-so’s she’ll bed

“Ah, my radio will do the trick! ”
Just turn it on (click-click-click-click)
But nothing hears
Does she her ears (just static)
So off she sings a song (something old by Britney Spears)
Say sleep it is not paltry
Say sleep it perseveres
Her tune grows tired
And soon
Her head-fall dreams strike clear

and final dream she sees this night
Themed sweet rewards and birds in flight

She never saw
Fantastic scenes:
Poor car ditch crashing
Poor blood fine sheen,
Though heard the sound
Of earth mix metal
But in dream ‘twas different clue,
Where thunder sang then birds did settle
Rushed smiles from faces (different times and places)
How in childhood she once knew.

by R.J. Bevans

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