Poetry:
If you get behind a Ford Fairlane on a truck bed you must speak the name as it passes.
First the clouds are scalloped, then oooph into big monoamniotic billows on the horizon.
Say Ford Fairlane so it can’t be mistaken for the movie which is actually Hudson Hawk.
Two altocumulus as if pierced by ray toothpicks, topped with small thunder brows.
State fun fact about the Fairlane like how it replaced the Crestline but retained the stripe.
Stratus that were once a light sweep across the many-hued bodies of water.
Mention the iconic Fairlane in Breakfast at Tiffany’s when they’re wearing those weird masks
The long slate horizon with two or three columnar clusters, alert like sentinels.
Observe the 400R made in a miniscule 57 units but had a massive 425 horse power.
Darting among the sheer floating islands of dance steps in the god’s sandals.
In awe for the great boats of hope you sailed over land at sixteen.
The thunderheads cool and condense at a great distance from you, fair, in the lanes.
Merridawn Duckler is a poet, playwright and text-based installation artist at Blackfish Gallery in Portland. Her chapbooks include INTERSTATE (dancing girl press), IDIOM (Harbor Review) and MISSPENT YOUTH (rinky dink press). She is an editor at Narrative Magazine and the international journal of philosophy Evental Aesthetics. She owns a house in Tillamook.
