Gas station

blue light

one morning

of many.


Rain wet melancholy

in a get-out-of-the-way spot

the sound of a car horn moves

on by and defines itself, painting

movement with its’ increasing decreasing.


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One thought on “Painting

  1. elscorten says:

    When I was young I liked the travelling better than arriving at the destination. The gas station was my favorite stop. Early in the morning or late at night my favorite time.I still love the travelling. Destination always one step ahead. This poem evokes a beautiful picture of that state of being; here, now and on our way. I love it.

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