was strange. The roads really didn’t make sense
wending their way around Lake Houston. I

got stuck, my big black Mercedes backed
into a ditch, I had to let it go

further-in in order to get traction,
tires spinning on the soft wet grasses

finally let me go, forward again
down a black incomprehensible street

like the face of this beaten woman
her blue eyes lusting for everything

that I might have given her, her life.

(copyright 2016 Kurt Lovelace all rights reserved)

…audio of the author reading KingWood…

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