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strange being the only one who stays on the road pt 3

In 100, by Nora on January 16, 2021 at 1:07 pm

Still i’m driving, skirting from south to west i’m tangled in a rash of highways intertwined and overcrowded, darker cars, fancier cars, lower cars, cars speeding in and out tailgating heavily, never using turn signals, honking. I collect assholes, accruing them and letting them fall away, but I stay. I’ll be on the road long after they’ve reached their places. Kudzu proliferates around me along with american indian names, Chattahoochee and Chattanooga and Waxahatchie. Winding roads become flat and straight again, cotton bales and floating puffs, straight-piped mobile homes, jesus 2020 signs, evangelical preachers re-congregate on the radio, again. I drive.

thank you baby

In 100, by Nora on January 7, 2021 at 4:46 pm

pearl strings of words in each story and memory bursting full, hearts opening violet reveal

storm torrent trickle, silk threads and sparks cradling sweetness and tough jerky leather

iron bleak and beautiful watery oceans held back by a string

shining knife horizon but it’s only more ocean, forever

but never the same a thousand billion gallons constantly roiling foaming lapping rocking thrumming idling lulling gently caressing imperceptibly shifting into another unknown ocean

sometimes blue-dark rough with jagged fear

for a long time for a long while maybe always

this ocean-wet dirt between my toes that grip the olive tree trunk

once again (washington square 12/15)

In 100, by Nora on December 18, 2020 at 11:54 am

i instantly felt the mood and the energy of the air change, settle into something menacing, something at my expense, something that made me an object.

i couldn’t even hear what he was saying, becoming deaf to it in defense. i honestly couldn’t tell if he was slur-pronouncing me hot or hideous; the meaning was the same:

shut the fuck up, i get to tell you what to do and how to be and whether you matter. you don’t.

& there is no “correct answer” – that split second instinct to somehow defuse, evade, respond – gut-punching impossibility. just grin and bear it.