The 18
Preston Highway
hard yellow brown
suicide lane
down to the Snyder
Ohio Valley temperature inversion
parks stink
on top
the Watterson overpass
churches
check cashing joints
the 18
runs down Preston
every 15 minutes
ebb and flow
you’re standing
in the aisle
eight,
nine,
noon,
four,
five,
six,
nine-thirty
the wrong 18
dumps you short of Outer Loop
at the Cash America on Ulrich
Mexican places for Mexicans
Mexican places for whites
bare tube fluorescent
gold-flecked white Formica
Tecaté
can’t order in Spanish
can point
secret menu
all the Latins under curved glass
at the front of a converted Wendys
bus stop
hammered wet cigarette tar
poison fumes
busted catalytic converters
broken cars
making the right
off Outer Loop
accelerating up Preston
in a trail of stink
late
catching the 18
stragglers
they’re not
turning off
the lights
obviously
pull knit cap
down over burnt eyes
up Eastern Parkway
the 18, then a mile home
* * * * *
pulling on a Tecate 24
up Preston
dank night
up about
where Indian Trail
slashes across
oily dark
swimming across
broken asphalt
dirt
you feel as much as see
breathing
chunked petroleum
sloughing off
strip malls
perhaps
not dark so much as light
at crazed angles
coming in
as negative light
always
people
crossing the street
in the dark
you don’t see them
just sort of hanging out
there
in the double turn lane
Mexicans
Africans
Koreans
Whites
strollers
lumpenprole
defying death
hanging
on the edge
broken asphalt river
all it is is
you wake up
in the morning
and find yourself
back
out on Preston
fucked
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