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Volvo With Vermont Plates, Day Four

When we arrive, there are no horses left for us to hate. 

 

Every pasture points us east, towards Siloam Springs and future complaints.  I’d forgotten how strangers in red dresses could scare me.

 

Thick mist is no substitute for this crowd of angry faces.

 

Tell them I felt pretty.  Knock me to my knees.

David Levine grew up in the poorly named town of New City, NY. He has an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Colorado, and is pursuing a PhD in Literary Studies at the University of South Dakota. His work has appeared in UCity Review, White Whale Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, DREGINALD, Utter, Vinyl, and other journals.

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