by Nancy Scott
Of these streets full of potholes, there’s more
than one where I’ve blown out my tires,
and knowing it, I blame the politicians,
who, always on the verge of losing
the next election, don’t care to make
my ride a smooth one. So many politicians
with no limits, who in this country have we,
unknowingly, said goodbye to for good?
As the next election nears, and claims,
counterclaims, and smears leave only
bitterness to savor, is there, perchance, just one
who will emerge and surprise us?
With a world in foreclosure, I find detours
at every intersection. Even the guy ahead of me,
turn signal wildly blinking, has a spare tire
mounted on his trunk.
The sturdy grey Corolla is, I fear, the last car
I will own. Not one road will miss us
that I’m sure, but I hear a newly paved one
runs past where the burning bushes bloom.
Nancy Scott (website) is the author of five books of poetry. The most recent (2011) is a chapbook of ekphrastic poems, On Location, published by March Street Press, and dedicated to her grandfather, who emigrated from Russia in 1907. The poems take a whirlwind voyage from Russia to Latin America to Afghanistan, Hungary, England and America. She is also the managing editor of U.S.1 Worksheets and an exhibiting artist. All of these achievements have come about since she retired in 2004.