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An Ode to Rain and Red

by Kiley Winkelhake

The car twisted and turned,

our bodies moved with the scoliosis mountain roads,

as we traveled up the spine of Longs Peak.

Evening rain lingered in the crevices

              and cracks of the worn asphalt.

The scent of fresh, hot coffee seeped

             into the grey fabric roof,

the morning breeze weaved it’s way through

             the cracked window

on the drivers side, her red hair stuck out

             compared to the grey sky.

Her hair not just red but a carousel of



                                          and blonde.

Each strand individually woven to make a stunning

                              unique red.

The scenic mountainside, transporting us

into a Bob Ross painting,

each rock purposefully placed.

Sitting in comfortable silence her blue eyes

                            almost transparent

when the red brake lights hit them

                            just right.

She always saw through the lies that everyone else,

                            unquestionably believed.

The static radio began playing “Roses”,

the sound of glitter,

               shimmering crescendos,

                              the bass of the song dropped.

The crimson highlander made a

                              dip into a puddle pothole,

Our bodies dropped

                              with the boisterous bass.

Laughter echoed and bounced off the interior of the car.

Distorted reflections of the paper town we left behind,

reflected off the rear view mirror.

Running away from the town that we used to call home,

the town which had shackled us to believe

that, all the world had to offer was

white picket fences, and a desk job.

Driving away from the watercolor sunrise,

county fair cotton candy pink,

              interlaced with gold

                           like the dried up plains,

                                         dotted with groundhogs,

Blue from the flooded creeks,

              and marsh, mosquito infested lakes,

Orange from the dull road salt

              that melted the pure white winters snow.

Safety of wearing her number twenty five soccer hoodie,

that smelled of lavender and was coated in white and black cat fur.

The musty car heater blasted,



                                      warm air.

As the rain continued to pitter patter,

               distorting the view

                            of the encompassing rocks

                                          that towered above us

Kiley Winkelhake is a nineteen year old artist and writer from Longmont, Colorado. She has previously had her short story “It Was Just a Kill Box” and her poem “2a.m Intimacy” published in “Plains Paradox Literary Journal”. She has also had her artwork published in “The Raw Art Review: A Journal of Storm and Urge” where her art piece “Evanesce” was featured in the online gallery.

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November 2018

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