2021-01-17 06:07

Hitchhiking on Hennepin

A heavy plane with Northwest’s red
tail drops toward the airport, grinding
over the lakes. Remaindered Rexroth
for sale at Magers & Quinn and Corso dead

in Bloomington. And here he comes
walking south facing north, thumb
up and out. Bags ponderous
against his hip. Nighthawks overhead,

frantic, their wings daggered and flitting.
I could insinuate the scene’s essential
seasonality but I don’t have that kind
of time. It is 5:30pm on May 3rd.



Previous post
how How. You cannot believe, you can only surmise, by surprise you can guess the correct answer. The question eludes me, so I forget to ask. That’s
Next post
Polly A poem of mine, “Polly,” was published this morning at Autumn Sky Poetry Daily. I was especially pleased that the editor commented on my use of