Driving I-70 by Maril Crabtree

At sunset, traffic turns nervous.
SUV’s and blunt-nosed vans
command the lanes. A red Silverado

darts here and there with the sure grace
of a dragonfly, stitching lanes together
as it weaves in and out. The air blooms

with the tang of gasoline, hums with the weary drone
of tires on asphalt. Behind these wheels sit women
rehashing the morning’s dispute with their lover

or men hoping they can get home
in time to have a beer and watch the game. Herds of headlights
swallow the sun’s last rays. As the rain begins,

A thousand windshield wipers fling it away.
Lawns have been watered and swimming pools filled. The rain
is nothing but a nuisance. It’s already too dark for rainbows.

Maril Crabtree married a Kansas boy five decades ago and considers herself a full-bred Kansan by now. She writes poetry and creative nonfiction and is a former poetry editor for Kansas City Voices. Her latest chapbook is Tying the Light (2014).

Guest Editor: Roy Beckemeyer is from Wichita, Kansas. His poems have recently appeared in The Midwest Quarterly, Kansas City Voices, The North Dakota Review, and I-70 Review. Two of his poems were nominated for the 2016 Pushcart Prize competition. His debut collection of poems, “Music I Once Could Dance To,” published in 2014 by Coal City Review and Press, was selected as a 2015 Kansas Notable Book by the State Library of Kansas and the Kansas Center for the Book.