Apr 2013
There's a girl I know who likes to stand on the side of the road.
Doesn't flinch when a semi-truck drives by, doesn't do a dance when she's spooked by a horn.
She just stands and watches the cars blur by her eyes,
She marvels that in one moment, that blue Ford truck, with shovels and rakes and a black lab in the back were in her life for a moment.
But within the next, they were gone.
She never knew if she was going to see that Ford again.
But before she can even let the loss of never seeing the blue Ford sink in,
A rusty, purple mini-van comes barreling down the road to introduce its self.
Doesn't flinch when a semi-truck drives by, doesn't do a dance when she's spooked by a horn.
She just stands and watches the cars blur by her eyes,
She marvels that in one moment, that blue Ford truck, with shovels and rakes and a black lab in the back were in her life for a moment.
But within the next, they were gone.
She never knew if she was going to see that Ford again.
But before she can even let the loss of never seeing the blue Ford sink in,
A rusty, purple mini-van comes barreling down the road to introduce its self.
I was driving the other day and I looked out to my left to check a glimpse of the scenery, and this flash of pink caught my eye. It turned out there was a girl standing where the woods met the road and it bothered me so I wrote this poem.
