• Poetry

    Just Before Midnight Last Tuesday

    We drove our trucks off the street and through the wide, grassy medians after it had been raining all day, ‘cause the sun was down, the rain was gone, and our engines were on. Some people like their cars to purr but I like mine to roar. Slamming on the gas then braking hard, I spun us in circles,   tearing up the grass and sending mud flying, while my buddies pumped their fists and hung out the sunroof. I was dubbed the Donut King. Up the street, Zach saw a hot chick, brunette, sauntering down the sidewalk in a little red dress—   heels clicking, hips swaying. I drove…

  • Poetry

    Rush Hour

    in the summer, we took the soft top off the jeep, and sped down the barren, sun-enveloped highway. the wind’s warm hands tangled my hair. we were unburdened, and he radiant. now the silence in the car is like the medicinal tang that settles while winter begins to scratch her glacial fingers up through the supple ground. the heat from the vents seems to escape through the glass to my right and disappear into the lurking, chill air outside, not giving me reassuring warmth like it’s supposed to. the other cars on the road moderate our speed, forcing us to look at the mostly naked trees that intimidate him and…