Semi-Random Reflections

Read Time: 1 min.

It’s the late 30s in Tennessee.
This guy named Coy Revere Jr.
is out running still-swill
and watching Smokey appear
in his Plymouth’s rear-views.
He does a one-eighty.
He does a one-eighty at one hundred miles per hour.
The blurry, dusty tires
release a scorched squeal
as the gas pedal closes in on the floor.
He pictures the crisp dollar bills
waiting in an envelope like seeds.
Prohibition will end soon.
To keep the seeds coming
Coy will have to shift gears,
line his car up beside other ex-shiners,
and paint a number 13 on the sides.
The clean, black tires
will keep spinning and squealing.
Walls of faces will rush past the windows
like years
while Coy looks back
at all the cars that are always behind him.
In a press conference someone will ask
“What are you chasin’?”
and Coy will say,
“Ask what I’m runnin’ from.”

The road picture was taken on an empty road with the car in park.