New York State Route 109

www.twitter.com/nickorsini …I’ll tweet your face off.

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I’m wrecked out on the side of 109…

and the snow falls, piling up at my sides…

I am a human shape. A direct line from

god to the pavement. These cuts run like

the high school track…lapped by a gym

class up and down my back. A pretty girl

tells me I’m trapped in the dark. The sky

puffs up its chest, trying to use the best

face it has to push me back against the

white grass. A blinker goes off on its own,

clicking yellow, signaling an up-and-down

turn that’s impossible. Traffic passes in deep

distance …I can hear it moving…pocketing

the cold air and blasting it north. A pretty

girl tells me I’m trapped in the dark. Get it

together kid…try just a little bit. She’s got

giant eyes …and if they were the last two

things I saw, I could freeze and expire.

A gentle hand slides over my broken

fingers.

“109 isn’t your number”

she whispers.

Text tagged as: poem poet writing spilled_ink love accident girl indie snow winter cold car_accident writer