Down the street
an unscathed oak trunk
killed a car
grieving relatives
festooned the hard place
you have seen this before
woman with a drink
saw her husband
flirting with
drove off in a hurry
blind drunken tears
stamped her foot
and won oblivion
ribbons and flowers
dangle in the rain
The drive along the South Branch Road was dicey
the sky was gone the sun had long since set
and snowbanks at the edge were grey and icy
the woods were black as ink you can’t forget
The letter told a sad familiar story
the words were cold as daggers in a spine
his fist still gripped the page that said “I’m sorry
and I will always love you, Adeline.”
The motor roared the car was fairly flying
but underneath his heart raced twice as fast
[Want to write a few more lines? Give it a shot as a comment]
so I’m at it with the ice chipper
sorta straightened hoe
sliding the frozen layers off the driveway
on this warmish mid-day before the freeze
guy puffs by tossing a caption at me:
snow’s a bitch, eh?
Hell, I’d prefer snow to scorpions any day.
