| Driving Home
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Amy Cunningham
I am not on the internet super highway. I am on Mount Orab Pike just before the graveyard. A humid eastern wind muscles through the elms. They reach out for me. I veer right towards a stone wall. This is a small road on the great grid of great things. This is a small road past the new elementary school, past the Georgetown Motel--ROOMS FOR RENT, past Sunshine Independent Living Senior Citizen Complex. ((Henry (with the tennis court) rocks back and forth back and forth)) This is a small road. This is an ageless journey in a V-6 engine. Rabbits look like rabbits and squirrels look like squirrels. Families sit for portraits in great green front dandelion yards. I am a small bit of information; a living animation of 1’s and 0’s, a double-yellow wave of a woman, loaded with room for extra memories! I curve into town towards home. I exhale and make a wish. I am caught on the tail of the eastern wind and gear west. |