A Sketch of a Drive on a Bad Day

by Brendan Strong

Ragged, random violence  – a rumbling

Sudden truck wheel at my shoulder

I could reach out

and touch the last thing I touch

Should my arm

be torn

from my

shoulder.

It has stopped raining at least, but wet remains, and I think

Of sheer violence stored up in the slick synthetic teeth

That roar at the surface, and run down the road.

Chewing at the tarmac, grinding up potholes.

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