In a Truck South of Clayton – by Zachary Hodges

 

 

A cigarette dangles

               off my bottom lip,

               unsure of itself,

               whether it’s lit

                           or not.

 

            Ahead of us,

chickweed riots

            at the feet

            of the guardrails.

 

Geraniums

wander in the dark

beneath an

abandoned Honda

           near the 95 exit,

 

white t-shirt

           twitching,

           in the window.

 

A mile or two

           ahead the

           tail lights

collect

toward

the coast

like drunken stars

            around a

           singularity

 

until they melt into neon –

           velvet ribbons

snaking beneath

           a moment’s worth

          of Duplin County bridge.