wind fired snow veered at him
out of the overlap
of the cones of light
cast forward by the headlights

hypnotic demonic

his fingers gripped the steering wheel
willing the car to stay on the
virtually invisible country road
rimmed by dark trees
in a twisted black wilderness

the tendency to skid
intensified on icy curves
beside ditches
rock cuts
at crossroads that loomed up
enticingly empty

all that mattered
used to be getting somewhere
now anywhere now

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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