Where It Ends
The edge of town arrives quickly,
one last suburban tract,
one last inflatable swimming pool
then over the only hill around here,
after which an oatmeal wash of savanna
surfs over the blacktop.
There are many left turns ahead,
but when you discover a beat-up clapperboard
hanging over cotton brush
you’ll know you have attained warp speed.
Turn sharply down a hollow crick road
where pent-up pockets of sunlight
bud in the thickets, keep on
until you see ahead the land leaking into the sky.
No matter how many times you take this drive
you‘ll feel that you have only just now escaped
a story that will always end right here.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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