dirty laundry, duffle bags full of
this weekend's fashion,
and me, sandwiched between a camera bag
and rotten polos, shorts and some sweaters.
I had no choice but to stare out the window,
it was more green then the usual views:
strip mall, largest in the country,
and there weren't thirty different chain restaurants,
but i was still satisfied with a visual feast;
this was a neat little closet space tucked away
behind the Christmas decorations and a few
The valleys we meandered through
like over running rain water drains in Columbus,
overflowing into the streets,
were nothing but the interstate,
and our vehicle.
The trees dotted these mountains,
almost distant relatives to Appalachia,
but not quite tall enough, not quite east enough,
this mountain vista was kind enough for me
yet, I was unsettled.
There was a violence to it,
some motion or
going on beneath the almost summer bloom,
by cover of canopy, on the mountain floor.
And if not some beast stalking
then perhaps the clouds setting in too low,
pierced by these peaks,
cut into and forced to submit the tree tops.
These clouds are visitors to these valleys,
introduced by a warm rain,
left to mingle with the hot mildew
on each leaf on the sides of the interstate,
perhaps this was not some violence,
but some romance.
I couldn't complain about it.