Shoreline (Poet's Pantry)
I am a road noir
Alone at night I drive
An old Rambler rumbles,
one light burned, the other lit dimly
Things my eyes see, my skin feels:
the gutted gas stations;
the dead inside diners;
the vacant motels;
those roadside cat houses with flesh eaten whores, hurt of body and soul
At day's light I'll touch a bleary coast,
So my hope rises to a life anew
but black oil turns to black smoke
The Rambler rumbles slowly to an earthly stop
The radio on plays an old preacher's song:
God to the Running One. This Promised Land is meant for you and me.

SC: A poem I wrote a number of month's ago, before I knew about Poet's United. Like the last poem it closes with a Preacher's Song. Something more compelling than a coincidence? I wonder.