Past Chattanooga
Past mimosa trees
Run-down trailer parks, needles
Keep faith in Jesus
You grew up. City
Boy who’s daddy was always
Catching fly balls home
Now your hands tremor
But you insist on driving
Us kids to the coast
Past truck stop havens
Mirages of flooded roads
And the “good old days”
Before your brother
Got that divorce, and the pack
Of ‘Bama fireworks
They’re selling fight dogs
And antiques and stolen rings
Pawn your momma’s love
It’s a child, not choice
The train-car graffiti says
“Die” and you listen
Guns guns guns. Exit
Here. You steal words from billboards
Traveling southbound
3 thoughts on "Past Chattanooga"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
This poem feels perfectly cadenced. I resonated with the scenes as it rolled along. A great read, a great ride.
I loved this… felt like I riding along in the back of the car with the window rolled down…nice one.
I can feel your persona clearly in this piece