4/6/2025 for Your Choice J Poetry Contest sponsred by Brian Strand
I thought I heard a weasel pop. so, I made a California stop, and crawled back into my Corona, and hit the gas to Arizona. They follow me wherever I go, the weasels of New Mexico. Like a slug in the solar plexus, they went with me to East Texas. I wiped my brow with a bandana and barreled through Louisiana. Somehow, I maintained my grip, speeding blindly through Mississipp. Weasels wore my red pajamas somewhere near Mobile, Alabama. There was nothing left of me for ya, the night the lights went out in Georgia.
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