I remember poems in record sleeves
I remember names in dark dreams

for all the Mickey Spillane
and Charlottes
I knew

We used to drive south a lot
through some bad wrecks on the highway
messed up head ons
the windows full of rain and lights
people milling about
the fear and blur
and horror slipping away
as tires sang on the damp
asphalt

it was single lane for a long ways
down on farland stretchs on curving
glacial hills

COuntry western radio stations and my
uncle Lynn driving the 1968 Newport
he was or is an ex hydro man
my mother and he smoking and talking
some miles..My mom a nurse
assistant just starting then in her
early forties So we drove...
and then at the city then near Finch in
seventies 1974 in my aunts 1970 Olds
442 we saw the city all dark and gleaming
in spots..A lot for country kids

my mom and dad then read country and
pop culture horror and violence books
I used too but picked up reading canadian
gritty novels by new authors Or some
old stand bys

Lori watchs all the cop shows having grown
up in a mean mining town
anyone says it aint should visit a spell

we can wish society what we wish for it
but its still going to be there
twenty four seven..........