Overpass
On the overpass above the QEW,
we dangled our wishbone arms over the green
metal rail. Cars coursed like blood in the lanes.
Your skinny shoulder against mine made me
think we were free and that free-
dom meant we could do anything, and we
had a bag of rainbow Oreos. Nobody could stop us.
Squished icing of five Oreos each in
our mouths, tipped back our skulls and you went first,
sprayed your spit in one electric go o-
ver the green metal rail, a glorious
rainbow arc for one quick second, until
the car wind came, and the arc wobbled, almost
wilted. It hit asphalt, I guess. We didn’t
see how it blurred. Became worse than nothing.
Published online October 24 2020.
This piece was published in ‘Summer 2020,’ the Summer 2020 issue of CV2.
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