A road
Tripped on
Sun belt
And gas stolen
Yet took us
Green
To home
The "Gap"
Then
Was literal
A cleft in a vale
Between states
A landmark
Of leaving
And return
(How many stakes
Drive a windy rag
As shelters flap
Incessant)
(A certain glare
Reflects old paint
Moving past
Color stills)
We
In fixed
Atlas hands
Cracked
Another latitude
Depending upon where
One asked
copyright Tom McGlynn 2014
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