With Shoulder

by April Salzano

work ahead, the sign
promises, and men working,
no guide rail, driving suddenly becomes
sexy, act of foreplay.
Intersections are open legs, silos and cell
phone towers, erect against curvy fall
landscape. The road, thin ribbon of silk
with elastic edges in broad
daylight. I move forward with caution
and guilt through the yellow blinker, coming
closer to a stop sign I ignore, yield
to facing traffic. I bump
over railroad crossing, ride
the vibration without looking
in either direction, straight on
without destination.


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