consonantberry

The Gravel Edge

In Poetry on April 5, 2012 at 5:33 pm

Miles go round on a fog highway
Tread in the asphalt of enough
Extraordinary roundabouts
To dizzy blind a compass

I swear,
I’ll eat my breakfast in the sun
I’ll park the mobile
In the sun

But first, I need to find
The shoulder of this fog
This highway, many lanes wide
How many lanes?
Many, Many, Many

I don’t know
How many
Exactly
I’ve never been there
All the way to the gravel edge…

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