Leveler Poetry Journal
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The car right through the wall, right into the room illuminated by the light from a gnarled lamppost outside, the floor all covered in pale stones.

 

I totally just run away from the wreck. I hitchhike to a cornfield in Ohio, then to a state fair, toss chicken rings onto a corn dog stuck in a fried cheesecake, smush whole sticks of butter into cannoli shells, Alaskan landscapes of pure sugar, drink beer after beer after beer as I continuously gnaw and mold a ball of gyro meat, pour melted caramel and other sugar syrups onto my tongue right from the squeeze bottle, and I’m still there when the whole thing is supposed to be over and the livestock are led into trucks and the grass is splattered with powdered sugar, and I’m just in this place that I thought was a field but is actually a parking lot, and I flag down another car, and I say take me to the airport. Please. The guy drives and we listen to Prince Royce, and I say please keep driving and now I’m in Maine, and I get out of the car and climb the espaliered fence, encrusted with botanicals, and board the misty mail boat, and I’m ready to get going, but I’m reading a bestselling novel about tomorrow.




Luke Degnan