Issue
#9 |
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May
2010 |
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a poem by Rebecca Anne Renner
Roadhead
Noun: the interstate from here to Orlando
is a wasteland, a swamp of bumpers.
The overpass outside Apopka, I can see
the holier-than-thou tower, unfinished,
reflecting the limbo lines of cars. Five-
hundred yards ahead, smoke is swelling
from the hood of a truck, and Steven says
he wishes the explosion had been bigger.
In the hatchback next to us, the passenger-
girl disappears from eye level: we know
what she’s doing. We have to define
roadhead for the boys. Roadhead, verb:
when he is driving. Roadhead, noun:
the act of steering without hands,
a danse macabre; the skeletal bride
comes after the groom. Cars are parked
in all directions; we’ll see another couple soon.
© by Rebecca Anne Renner
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #9 ~ May 2010
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