WHEN I STREET RACED ON SUMMER NIGHTS
I could make 500 bucks
in less than 10 seconds
but after a year no one would race me
so I would leave you
in the house at 2 a.m.
drive across town
and eat an Oreo McFlurry
alone in my Firebird
as you would text: you okay?
You coming home soon?
Please, I’m worried!
I rarely replied. Instead,
I burned the dog leg of the night
shooting free throws at the park
on the end of our street, knowing
when I got home you would clutch me
a little tighter.
Author's Commentary: This poem represents a difficult time and in my marriage and the fear I would become the speaker of this poem--a man who concedes to selfishness and excess.
Logan Seidl is an MFA student at the University of Nevada, Reno. He has received the the DQ award in both fiction and poetry, and the James H. MacMillan Scholarship for poetry/fiction written about Nevada. His poetry has been published in The Kentucky Review, Crab Creek Review, The Meadow, and Vinyl.