Oklahoma
but it could have been Texas
it would have been
1954 or five
the Buick a ’53
all pea green and blinding chrome
somehow even
in this black and white photo
hood and fenders
hot as a skillet
shadows fried to nubs
all four windows
rolled down your tight
white tee or thin cotton camp
shirt comatose on the backseat
khaki pants and narrow belt
newly acquainted with the innocent
spread of your belly
goddamn two tone shoes
that leave me no choice
but to fix you
on Route 66 heading west
stopping for an orange Nehi maybe
take a long satisfying leak against
a backdrop of oil wells
wearing the expression
of a man in flight
a well-worn hand-me-down
I shed free along the verge.
