LGBTQ+ Poem: Turnpike, by Elizabeth Conti

She mentions she is a Scorpio as if I should understand
as if that explains her cigarette fingers and sanpaku eyes.
White clouds surround the irises of the mountains.
I drive toward her on cruise control until I panic,
tap the brakes because the road winds in ways unfamiliar,
because I am a fearful person
and not a Scorpio.

Maybe I should learn to let the roads have their way with me,
the way the wind has its way with the leaves it coaxes
to dance, long after the foliage has gone brittle, brown.
Maybe I should ash out of the open window like a lesbian in a movie
not the kind of girl who drives only five miles over
the speed limit because she is a fearful person
and not a Scorpio.

Author: poetryfest

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