Colorado Street

by Weston Cutter

The truck shifts iffy but the engine

thrums regardless, I’m rumbling

 

through late winter early nights

not knowing what gear I should

 

grind deeper into. What I know

for sure—on concrete roads named

 

after states I’ve never made wishes

within—is I’m too old for certain

 

reverse, have lived my share of

low-rev days. Call all you’re willing

 

to love a spark plug: no one ever

knew the paths, and the beer I’m

 

driving to I’ll raise in toast to what-

ever unnamed desperate street runs

 

parallel in you. Here’s to the zoom

of night: let’s make wishes through

 

every intersection regardless of

light’s color, no matter what we want.

 

 

Weston Cutter is from Minnesota.