The Poetry Kit MAGAZINE



CITN 4 - July 2001



Highway 61 Revisited
By Corey Mesler
Driving north on Highway 61
the lights of Clarksdale
look like Las Vegas
the way the surrounding darkness
ends in them.
And indeed its Pizza Hut, its
Wendy's, its Sack and Save
seem exotic as palaces.
Toby sleeps in the back seat
huddled over his pillow
in delicious fatigue; Cheryl next
to me nods, her
chin on her chest. The Delta
is a long black dream,
the serenity of India rubber,
the swallow of a whale.
Off to the west a skyrocket explodes.
It's 10:15, July Fourth, 19something.