He gets in a rusty ’76 Mustang,
an expedition east,
face pockmarked and pallid
in Tuesday evening twilight.
Empty Coors can
occupies the console,
Camel cigarette sings
between fingers, spare hand taps
tattoos at 10 o’clock.
He’s caught—
autonomy penetrates
Nebraskan blacktop, derelict dive bars.
He wants to tell
scraggly strangers his tale,
stuff crumpled thank yous
into an apron pocket.
Dani Putney is a queer, non-binary, Asian American poet exploring the West. Their poetry most recently appears in Brine Literary, Brushfire Literature & Arts, and Juke Joint Magazine. Presently, they’re infiltrating a small conservative town in the middle of the Nevada desert.
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