Poetry from Lisa Folkmire
Suburbia The neighbor boy has hot boxed in his duct-taped Chevy again. The smell seeps through the window screen just as the whirrs of the highway envelop our home. Tires speeding past unfilled potholes, broken glass bottles, hidden cop cars. Across the street, four wheels stalled in the drive. Windows cracking now, they’re coming up […]
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