Literature » Poetry

“Fresh Highways” — a poem by Mike Faran




FRESH HIGHWAYS                                                                                                       


Someone in the back of my
VW bus said it would be good to
turn our rock & roll band

into a jazz trio. 
I turned off the radio.  Complete
silence except for

the whistle of wheat as we swept
through Nebraska

Then Pete said that he could do
drums & trumpet;
Sid mumbled that he knew bass

A dark pink sky broke over
Wyoming as
we drank our coffee in Idaho

I picked up a spoon & clicked it
against a cup &
someone struck the counter with a

Pete pounded his skinny knees &
produced drum-like rhythms

Excitement was abundant as we
re-charted our course
down into The Mississippi Valley






Mike Faran lives in Ventura, Ca. as a retired lobster trap builder. He is the author of We Go To A Fire (Penury Press) and is a Pushcart Prize nominee. His work has been published in Atlanta Review, Rattle, The Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, and Slant.