It is such a dry town.

  Like hanging around in the negatives
  of an old roll of film.
  But we aren't staying long enough
  for the snow to become slush
  black and grey and full of
  pebbles and leaves and traction sand
  pushed around by the tires
  like our tumbling grey ghosts
  rattling within the flash
  framed together
  under some patio awning.

This town is a photograph
of us.

Gavin Adair lives in Portland, Oregon.
Email him at gavin_adair@gumballpoetry.com

Want to see what reviews look like? Click here
Like this poem? Send this link to a friend