by Susan Vespoli
Riding in the wake of his confidence
sheltered by shoulders and back
contained in a capsule of body slapping
wind, rain pellets and unexpected air.
Sheltered by shoulders and back
roads, tires grab streets that
wind. Rain pellets and unexpected air
bombs nose with aftershave, barbecue, trails of pot.
Roads, tires grab streets that
cut mountains, towns on map gone ghost,
bombed. No more aftershave, barbecue. Trails of pot
holes, weeds, and dark windows boarded up.
Cut mountains, towns on map gone ghost,
waitresses and desk clerks without teeth smile through
holes, weeds and dark windows boarded up.
Shrubbery and crabgrass push through asphalt.
Waitresses and desk clerks without teeth, smile through
poverty; paint praying Jesus murals on hotel stucco,
Shrubbery and crabgrass push through asphalt,
optimistic signs, still readable and hanging.
Poverty paints praying Jesus. Murals on hotel stucco,
customers, hotel guests, gas pumps pried up.
Optimistic signs still readable and hanging
“We’re here for you” and “winner.”
Customers, gas pumps, hotel guests pried up,
washed away by economic tide, presidents
“We’re here for you” and “winner.”
Red against blue, black against white, political snits leave victims.
Motorcycle slices view of a country
contained in a capsule of body slapping
holding on to what works: lovers, politicos or Jesus.
Riding in the wake of his confidence
Susan Vespoli lives in a tiny cabin in the Prescott National Forest. She received her MFA in poetry from Antioch University L.A. in December 2010. Her work has been published online and in print at Monsoon Voices, The Artists’ Page of Naturally Speaking, Threshold, Merge - Phx Poetry Series Anthology, Verse Wisconsin and OVS Magazine. Her poem “He Lusts after Librarians” was nominated for a 2010 Pushcart Prize.
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