from my unpublished second collection
Followed by crows, from just north of Evanston all the way to Lake Cook Road, there are almost no other cars this early in the morning.
Squirrels warm themselves on the concrete's pleasing glow. Swallows jump from tree to tree along trade routes as elaborate as flowering lace. Wisteria,
and the scent of lake breeze. The sound of surf beneath the engine's low drone. Too early for dogs and their sleepy owners.
Too early for hoarfrost, for smoke to rise from the chimneys in great sweeps. The way the road curves in on itself must have something to do with it,
conserving its heat like a garden snake, staggering the vistas in careful loops so that the evil that travels in straight lines gets trapped in hollows
and is soon dissolved. A long, luxurious braid of hair the cat and the husband sleep on. Easy to drift between lanes
towards the public boat launch. Towards the thing that makes the spirit soar and the mind snatch it back. You cross the tracks
where the willows hang their trellises and the stationmaster will not let the City cut them down. In the fog
it's a scene from a thriller. Coffee and pancakes in the grill across the street. America as we had imagined it, a sign and a blessing.
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First published in the Atlanta Review
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images and text © by Alpay Ulku
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