driving home
from home
knuckles
as white as the roads
the sky
the trees
my face
white
on white
on white
on white
binding my freedom
filling it with thoughts of ditches
of metal on metal
crashing
crunching
bleeding oil
bleeding gas
bleeding me

my side of the highway
unplowed
drifted over
deep
it pulls Mona’s wheels like an undercurrent
this way
and that

her electric blue must look beautiful from above
straining against the white
striving like a salmon to get back home

~bwarren 22