Roads Without Sidewalks

Roads Without Sidewalks
Image courtesy of jalopyjournal.com

Image courtesy of jalopyjournal.com

Written by Jenn Weinshenker

Soggy heaps of garbage shrugged along
Mowed lawns and swept driveways
Strikers refused to pick them up this week

A two toned, rust and white, El Camino turned the corner
An axle with a tire on either end
Strapped with bunjee chords, fit snug across the roof
Remnants of its road worthy past were tucked in the rubber lining
Where the windshield used to be

The driver grinned as he drove past
He must have said something funny
I couldn’t make out the words but smiled and waved anyway
It was the neighborly think to do

Down at the park
Crickets competed with the interstate, for reigning repetitious screech
Geese milled around in their autumn best
And an empty water bottle rolled under a picnic table
The fields were empty
Classes were back in session
There were no games today

A skinny dog barreled down a driveway
Bah-rah-rah-rah
An aptitude that took nearly forty years to achieve
We stood our ground
And eventually acknowledged
The road did not belong to any of us
I was free to go

Rounding the bend
I could see the screen door
My long haired Akita, Bear, jumped to his feet
The white plume of his gossamer tail
Haled
Downright exaltation
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Copyright 2009
Jenn Weinshenker
all rights reserved

About Lutin Muse

The fictional poster at The LTS Monthly Lutin-Muse Literary Journal. It’s all done by magical fairy dust sprinkled by an A-Muse-ing goblin… and then sealed with hardened moose drool.