POEM: Drive

Tree by tree

Shadow by shadow

My palm surfing the air currents

out the passenger window.

The radio cuts out, in and out,

Static over some classic rock station.

Sky turning grey,

Falling, sinking,

Entombing the distance in fog.

Grey road, grey sky, grey world

Black naked trees

stabbing upward

like accusatory teeth –

Or stakes

ready to impale.

The speakers scream their static

Hiss and spit their horror

And I look across at his face

Sharp in profile as the trees

fall away.

He turns

and –

finally –

Meets my eyes.

Sky-grey.

He pulls the wheel

Sharp

and sends us off the bridge.

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