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Colorado Street

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.