In the Car

      The tender wipers whisper back and forth,
      smearing the rain to a moment's clarity
      flattened like the fallen leaf honeyed
      to our advancing glass. The rain advances.
5     Trees stand out like lightning in our wet headlights---
      finding anything is a minor miracle
      in this beery weather, the old road a yawn
      of steam. Staccato your voice dissects
      Milton's lunar prosody, moon-smooth, moon-real:
10    "all his sullen adjectives were mere minks,
      like Ivana Trump's dead furs, a comfort in her sleep...."
      Sweating and smiling in our nightlong drive
      from bar to bar, I microscopically examine
      the copper hinged jaw of a fly, bright
15    on the inner windshield as I drive;
      too soberly drunk to tend or exhaust inspiration.

 

From the collection "Red Bank"

Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]

More information available on gregglory.com.