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Road Poems


David R. DiSarro    


All of life is a foreign country.          
                       ~ Jack Kerouac




I. Peaks Island, ME


The sun hemorrhages into a crisp horizon, smearing the wandering cirrus clouds while phlegm unfurls from my lungs, and the Atlantic Ocean aches at the thought of being treated like the perfect spittoon. 




II. Philadelphia, PA  


In the soft light of a city park, where dusk drizzles down to coat tender urban angels, the sound of a trumpet implants in my ear, and I think of oceans.




III. Russell, KS


Loneliness illuminated by a long stretch of highway, no tolls, only the occasional billboard to exercise my eyes in a place where there are no trees to stab at the sky.




IV. Raton, NM


Through the hypnotic pendulum of windshield wipers and the drone of talk radio, a puzzled black bear cub contemplates the asphalt, and only after our eyes meet do I change the station.




V. Port Townsend, OR


Seagulls guffaw, the last ferry whistles a distant tune, and I put toes to the water.




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