50 mph

If only. A day of driving (and a lot of not driving) but we got to the halfway point in the end.

Some poor so and so was stuck on hard shoulder and it brought to mind this:


Waiting for the yellow van


Going somewhere between here and there
a fly cruises at low altitude
lazy in the thick heat
it bumps off flesh then screen
then flesh again
momentarily attracted to salty skin.

Then off to muscle in
on striped heavyweights
scouring ice cream wrappers
and bubble gum
stuck to an abandoned shoe.

The obligatory decoration
of roadsides and lay-bys.

I try to imagine
what rage or passion
induces one to hurl a shoe.

Just one.
In passing.
Whilst waiting for the yellow van.