Mission Exit
Mission Exit
In the far lane
out of the marine fog,
Near Mission Road Exit-
the 5 South-
a 1965 Ford Ranchero,
vein blue
and sea bleached bone white.
The grim faced driver,
hands at ten and two,
her plum head wrap and
fingers tight as roots,
her face twisted furrows.
I will never know her.
She will hold all she knows
sacred, broken-
as real as a sharpened knife-
and disappear uncaptured
even by these words.
.
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