spring break up
coming around on Highway 2 hard on the brakes, the smell of iron burning chemical rubber
small town Montana heaves into view, more bars than churches, and it’s Spring Breakup:
mud running through unpaved streets, people climbing to high ground like
slick black ants isolated, a human delta, I felt
above-below-between within-without-apart afraid
my folks down there, the water incensed, red logging-road dirt.
next year at this time, I reckon it’ll be
Like Groundhog Day. Over and over, but
Like Groundhog Day. Over and over, but
Like Groundhog Day. Over and over, but
Like Groundhog Day. Over and over, but
when will it not be
a rushing river, red river, people like ants, like
folk
me above, them below
the brakes of my car, smoking and stinking of burning iron.
About the Author
I come to PTOTIC by way of Montana, Colorado, and many points in between. Libby, Bozeman, Naperville, Paris, Groton, Oslo, Mystic.
I’m interested in writing, poetry, art, and design, and will publish my sporadic attempts at each when I think they might be worth your time. I profess to be a writer, mainly. So I hope we’re not wasting our time here, or at least you are not wasting yours. I’d feel bad about that. PTOTIC is all is the best I got going at the moment, hope to hear what you think, please let me know.
