" The Span of Feelings, Expressed "
One tire track crushes its print
through puddle ice. Jagged
remnants lie in brown
guts of the refreeze.
Her love was sleet that shattered
on cables of the bridge,
collided with the deck, melted
into open-mouthed pools.
He stood without umbrella
in imagined shadows of steel parabolas:
arachnid traces. He tongue-rolled prisms
without rainbows, spit out diamonds.
Traffic pays the toll of expectancy,
threatens to become innocuous.
Showers of crystal are the dice of fate
waiting for the rubber crush.
"All weather radials, guaranteed
for the life of your machine."
I nod and the air wrenches
sing of choices, broken asphalt, potholes.
I am the car at the toll booth
who traverses the floating bridge
over pale spots of fallen
dirt that used to be mirrors.
© 2004 Steve Williams
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