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highway 14, part two
by: james lee
god did not create highway 14 in one day; in fact
he didn’t create it at all
he left it up to men and their explosives
just drive out past black earth
while concentrating on the space
between the yellow lines
and your father’s dirty collar
because the handy thing about a highway
is how it can be everywhere you want to be
all at the same time.
highway 14 you are my crooked home,
you are the curving hips of my high school sweetheart,
you are the moments between my grief and my grief
highway 14 has the good sense
to keep the wisconsin river at arm’s length,
has the wherewithal to dissect the cattle from the barn,
has the courage to display stop signs and hog farms
once i had a dream about you,
the moon rolled you out like a tongue
and started spitting junky pickups into the lone rock cemetary
i think this means the spine of my heart is a two-lane connection
between your grief and mine
highway 14 you are the dangerous neck of a bobcat,
the broken antler of a ten-point buck,
the spread wing of a hunting hawk,
highway 14 you add to yourself
and carry the corn-fed cattle to chilly hooks
highway 14 cracks like a knuckle
under the tire of Peterbilt diesels
and races trains
with its fierce
yellow stripe
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