A Summer Drive

2/8/15


The wind
howls,
And the tall grass dances
along.
The pavement is silent,
the smoke settling into
the waves of green.

Black lines crisscross the road,
where the green Outback, screeched and skidded
a flurry of bodies and metal.
The black treacle pavement is still warm.

The car now rests on it's roof
among the grass,
which is swaying side-to-side
like an inflatable tube man outside a Pep Boys.

Oil drips from the tail pipe like molasses,
and a squirrel pokes it's head through
a shattered window.
The sound of sirens in the distance
grows closer.