Abigail

Exhaust fume whispers on cracked blacktop

like sea-foam mornings.

Drop the misty words

with stolen Oregon breath and fade away.

My broken sand dollar graveyard

cannot be expressed.

Outside your window is a two-car accident

barely avoided by leaving late.

Garnished trees know the delay, cars waiting

like stranded worms on dry pavement

begging for rain, or at least a chance.

Taking any reason to stay.