12 Hours In

12 Hours In

katrinatea:

we hit 287

the fat cows

stopped looking

like shadows

started looking

like statues

we blinked and hands

came into focus

thick

like hams

wrenches gripping

pop caps

a sharp click

and soothing fizz

soda sucked

through phallic straws

we whispered

“Virginia”

hurtled by

XXX signs

projecting magenta

tinging

the grapefruit moon

shoulders shouldered

rat eyes

squinted

we cracked

our chicken necks

pulled

our

gristle

from the bone

we all touched

somehow

my thigh rubbing

hers elbowing

his elbow

resting against

the front seat

the moon had

burst and

 leaked

sticky juice

into the trees

we rolled

down the windows

in Maryland

Great poem by a great friend.

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