Categories
Meaning Poetry

Gas

Second only to the cigarette butts, the Marlboro breadcrumb trail leading to the pump. A leak sprung in the line…

It’s an open door restroom littered with junk needles.

Sharp box popped. 26 gauge longs were popular at the truck stop.

Second only to the cigarette butts, the Marlboro breadcrumb trailleading to the pump. A leak sprung in the line,
diesel vapour filling the air and the lungs. Crack a window
and in comes a breeze of black smoke. A barrel burning,
beside it jerry can and shredded tires. Last chance gas but no cars,
no summer getaways today. Would be vacationers can’t sight see
through a haze this thick. These smoke signals
a warning. The road signs bear graffiti, only lost birds glimpse the message
reading: “TURN BACK” They fly over knowing not to roost.

The barrel’s flames still cling to life, in a motionless place
it burns only for the birds.

Kenny Erickson

By Kenny Erickson

Kenny Erickson is a poet and writer born and raised in Missoula, Montana. Fond of the outdoors you could likely find him outside on one of the nearby trails, or riding around town on a bike too small for him. He winters in the same apartment he summers in, albeit with a tinge of the snow laden blues. His influences range from underground, internet era artists like JPEGMAFIA to authors like Kurt Vonnegut. With his eclecticism that's hard to pin down he hopes to highlight local culture and environmentalism in exciting ways.

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