Get Your Premium Membership

On The Road

The sun scorches along the interstate branding Arizona with smoldering, rubber Nazca lines. In the steak house, ersatz Western artifacts, She says she is Navajo but she looks like Britney Spears. She brings some bland repro food. I think of Navajo blankets, how a hand-woven history has kept their stories authentic. She tells me she is working her way through - she does not say what. I don’t ask, I hope it’s someplace real.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.