December 10, 2009 by The Citron Review
She chose to walk
next to an old highway
pushing the road kill
to where it would be safe
with an unrecognizable brand of sneaker.
Barefoot, she walked rhythmically,
stopping only to throw rocks
at a particularly determined crow.
Her overalls had many pockets.
Some large enough to hold a chicken,
others small enough for candy hearts.
The garage held prominence on a dusty corner.
The girl didn’t bother to read
a note taped to a paint deprived door.
Her eyes followed the land’s crooked spine
over the low hills and into
a cloudless American sky.
Collin James works in Energy Conservation and is a Brother Of The Endemic.