Poem: 25.9 | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Hudson Valley; Chronogram
Pin It
Favorite

Poem: 25.9 

25.9

Two gas pumps, in the shadow of a winged-stallion,
stood side by side like American Gothic.
My furlough completed, duty-bound for battalion,
I wondered aloud and questioned the logic

of fractional pricing at dust-bowl gas stations,
nine-tenths of a cent unlike that of a mile,
the price they are paid in these situations
for having foresight and marketing guile.

Traveling in uniform, 1968,
the country at war within and without
I could catch any ride and cross any state.
Never since, have I had that kind of clout.

In the Kansas high-plains they get twenty-five nine,
when you’re running on fumes, at the end of the line.

Pin It
Favorite

Comments

Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

Readers also liked…

Hudson Valley Events

submit event

Common Ground

Oct. 6-Nov. 13 — A photography exhibition by Ellen Lynch. The exhibit pairs separate photographs of...

View all of today's events

Latest in Poetry

Hudson Valley Tweets