Augusta of the Half-Paved Roads

Baron of the back roads, keeper of the long cut / master of the sly pass, archduke of the set sun – prowling over potholes, packing maybe just one more before it opens back to crass civilization. I don’t care much for his music but the times really are changing: there’s a hydrant in a corn field; there’s the evidence of contracts. They broke wells behind the race track and subbed crossing guards for deer –

at least on some roads, there’s still no one but a gently falling slope. And if I slide it into neutral I can let my Civic coast the whole smooth way down to the stop sign, with my stomach and my spine bubbling up like a blueberry, buoyed by champagne.

~ by perfectionatrix on April 28, 2014.

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