Crusin’
Slits of split screen
scenery seep through
rain stained windowpane,
tall buildings that converse
with cloudless skies about
who’s seen and
heard more, lights that beam
like stars, motionless, locked
in a dueler’s stand still,
each one begging for some artificial
wish and forming new constellations
that flicker.
We whizz by
going 65, 70, paying little attention.
Underneath us, the bridge is a Freddie
Freeloading kind of blue,
humming silent oceans,
bodiless misunderstandings,
that escape unnoticed
and an old gray haired angel
with arthritic wings,
overhears our straying thoughts
and thinks, maybe,
just maybe, they will be
his way back home.
W.J. Nunnery was born in Madison, Wisconsin and has lived there his entire life. His work has appeared in The North Central Review, Xenith Online and Postcard Shorts. Currently, he is a creative writing student at Concordia University St. Paul.
