Interstate Sunset

It was back in 1989…
I think.

My chalk white Civic
chugging along the asphalt riverbed,
dodging black alligators strewn from a semi.

A bruise bright blush crept
across the clouds like velvet ink spilled
over a wet watercolor.

I couldn't drive with that up there.

I nudged my tiny white skiff off at the first ramp--
up up as close to the sky as the blacktop would take us--
and stopped on the bridge.

Like a voyeuristic child
I watched the clouds crimson lips
make love to the cooling blue
skin of the sky.

The soft minutes languidly moaned past  
until the lovers finally sprawled
out across heaven
in a long purple gasp
like God's home was their own bed.

The End

23 comments about this exercise Feed