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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4671 Registered: 11-1998 |
Poem of the Week Night Ride Through Texas Heather Long There's no such thing as a short ride through Texas. The highway, black elastic, snaps you back to a mile marker you thought had already passed, keeps you humble. Doors thrown wide, a van pulled to the side, sits empty, human cargo expelled into the desert. A woman, frozen in patrol-car brights, pulls her hair, screams Julio, sea como el viento! Run like the wind. It's been seven hours, nearer the start than the end of the line; her cry sticks like a burr. My headlights slice into a congregation of cicadas, and I watch for signs of rising dust, a glimpse of Julio in the rear-view mirror, the future caught in its own round time. |
