Thunderbird Road
- May 31, 2019
- 1 min read
by Tori Hook
I’ll tell you what I sing on Tuesday afternoons when I drive down Missouri 150 to work:
1. The Clash 2. Songs with the word “devil” in the title 3. Bob Dylan (I’m supposed to like Bob Dylan) 4. Anything in a minor key 5. Beethoven
I forget the words before Thunderbird Road, lose my voice on the shoulder at Mile 15 because:
1. A child died in a car accident but no one put a cross & now her ghost clasps the light pole.
2. A row of seven trees strains at the horizon, evenly spaced. Silent spindle watchmen.
3. Car exhaust clouds gather, perch on the power lines, a murder of semi-truck gases.
4. Everything quiets at once. The high grass whispers anticipation. What will we sing?
5. If I let go of the wheel, I could bury myself with the child & we could sing the sign of the cross.
Tori Hook’s work has been previously published in Connotation Press and the Asbury Review.
