Poetry
Fishing at Midnight to Hide from the Dashboard Saviors
Damion Higbie
Forgive us. We know you are watching
from the orange light of the radio,that somewhere between the windshield
and the tackle-box on the flooryou have already damned our souls,
that you are busy draftingthe blueprint to our own custom
hell: an after-life of beer cansand loose change and torn receipts
from every gas station here to Baton Rouge,one endless slide beneath the chin
of a nodding dashboard doll.