poetry by j matthew waters

not guilty

I heard she’d contracted the virus
& it wasn’t just hearsay
was told she drove 80 miles to Waterloo
to find out if it was true

god knows how long that will take

we may never know the results
having packed our bags
heading in the opposite direction
cell phones no longer working
& no destination in mind
just a strange idea that being on the move
is somehow better than doing nothing at all

each time we stop for supplies
I casually pick out meaningless postcards
compile them into the glovebox
foolishly thinking one day
I’ll turn them into something special

august two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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