the bridge-tunnel
i can’t think about you when i’m driving
my foot becomes lead and my hands become light
i worry that my arm will drag the wheel as i go to wipe my eyes
and i will fall right for you
all
over
again
sugar and salt
he was the sugar and i was the salt
we’d eat away sweets until my teeth would rot
he was addicted to the splash of flavor i brought
into his life. that raised his cholesterol (and heartbeat) but looked a little like
MSG or cocaine. i guess in his eyes it was all the same
because more than a dash or pinch could make a person clench their teeth and fists
i had that effect, he didn’t mind one bit. we shared ourselves whole
mixed our molecules into a small bowl until we created one new spice
we played tricks on our taste-for-flavor friends until they gave up
trying to see us as separate grains. we were a single soul with two different names.
south high street
half-drowsy colors forming
eighteen-wheelers that aren’t there
a blend of stop lights and street signs
rough fumes of fog slip through the air
vent. ten-two drifting to seven-five to
six hours passing by faster than … then
second hand thoughts of ill-composed
sentiments, the grass greener on the other
side of white lines and rumble strips the
asphalt rips away at my awareness
Vivian Isabel is a junior at Mary Baldwin University pursuing a degree in English, as well as her Master of Arts in Teaching. She hopes to teach English at her old high school and write a bit on the side. She has previously been published in issues two and five of the White Ash Literary Magazine and volume 8.2 of Outrageous Fortune. The majority of her works are inspired by real events and people in her life. She is optimistically in the progress of writing two anthologies, encompassing her Cambodian-American culture and previous experiences in love.