Poem to Find Frank Moss
It was June and afternoon. The car was red,
new. It couldn’t be missed. Do you remember
it, Frank? Do you still see the flashing red
light and the stop sign in your dreams? Do
you remember the bright blue sky, the soft
breeze, the quiet shady street in the centre
of town you raced down at more than 90
miles an hour? Had you ever been there
before? Have you ever returned to the scene?
When had you gotten in the habit of drinking
in the early afternoon? How many had you
had that day? Do you believe the police
believed you when you told them that the
speedometer was stuck at 90 mph? How
much chewing gum did you stuff into your
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