Whitesnakes ‘cross Deerfoot

viscous blue winds
drive whitesnakes ‘cross Deerfoot
in front of us and you say:
Sheesh, dude, this
is a cruel day

the heater blows lukewarm
vulcanized rubber fumes
into the cab as the radio plays
stereo Christian Country Classics,
it’s a giddy heady mix,
possibly hallucinatory, you say:
Jesus loves Deerfoot in winter
and whitesnakes forgive
the viscous blue winds

and I think: Man,
are you breathing this in?

the wind switches and whips
back across Deerfoot evicting
the angels clinging
to the rooftops of all good trucks,
they back-flap furiously
lest they too be dashed,
along with the whitesnakes,
on to the jagged black teeth
of the wide Stygian median

we leave behind the Cecil
and the Mustard Seed,
and we head North, North
our horizons, such as they are, are
beyond Olds

~ M. Waldron

M. Waldron was born in Calgary, but left for Europe and Asia at an early age only to return with fresh and hungry eyes in 2007.

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