Saturday, January 29, 2011

Write about a Time You Were Down and Out


It was the summer
of my nineteenth year
and I lay in the ditch
by the side of
Interstate 90
as semis
whoooshed by above me.

I opened
my last can of
cream style corn
with a jackknife.
and wondered
whether sleep
would come
even here
so far
from my
childhood bed.

About that time
I fell asleep
and dream racoons showed up,
to pick at my
dusty backpack
and comb their
nubby black fingers through
my uncombed hair.
Taunting me
for their enjoyment,

When I awoke
the sun was a
a blazing ball of fire
rising over a field
of melons.

And as I collected
my things and
climbed out of the
ditch and up to
the highway
I felt a quiet
sense of triumph.

The Newest days
are always preceded
by the darkest nights.

Barry Lane

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