A.M. The sun burns off the fog —
thick patches of light
spreading themselves open.
Traffic down Hempstead Turnpike crawls,
momentarily stunned by the sudden, blind
fury of light.
Even the man
ahead of me;
his bumper sticker that reads
“Welcome to America.
Now speak English.”
Even this man, one arm out the window,
his hand windsurfing,
for a moment
as the darkness recedes in a rut,
pure brilliance raining down on us
like a fusillade of arrows;
C. C. RUSSELL (C.C.Russell) lives in Wyoming with his wife and daughter. His writing has recently appeared in such places as Tahoma Literary Review, Word Riot, Rattle, The Meadow, and The Colorado Review. His short fiction has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best Small Fictions, and Best of the Net. He has held jobs in a wide range of vocations — everything from graveyard shift convenience store clerk to retail management with stops along the way as dive bar DJ and swimming pool maintenance. He has also lived in New York and Ohio. He can be found on Twitter: @c_c_russell.