By: April Salzano

I cannot remember the last time I drove
like this, the air of autumn filling every space
of my interior with warm rhythm, uneven
presence. I am not sure how a song by this title
has much to do with fixin to die, but I am
crying my eyes out on the highway, my version
of catharsis, left lane, passing semis
whose tired drivers tug their air horns
because my sunglasses are big and white,
my hair, free and flying, one hand on the wheel,
the other holding a cigarette as if casually,
as if sexy. The sun is a high threat,
telling me to drive faster east, to pass
my exit, keep going until I am not
a middle-aged woman driving
with wind blowing through her
Jeep, but instead, I am the wind itself.
Inspired by the song “Windows Are Rolled Down,” by Amos Lee, Mission Bell (2011)

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[April Salzano teaches college writing in Pennsylvania where she lives with her husband and two sons. She recently finished her first collection of poetry, for which she is seeking a publisher and is working on a memoir on raising a child with autism. Her work has appeared in journals such as Poetry Salzburg, Convergence, Ascent Aspirations, The Camel Saloon, Centrifugal Eye, Deadsnakes, Montucky Review, Visceral Uterus, Salome, Poetry Quarterly, Writing Tomorrow and Rattle. The author also serves as co-editor at Kind of a Hurricane Press. ]