K.A. McGowan

Some things go on and on. I’m taking I-10 to see my old friend Mad Jack, who’s been told he has a year to live. Less than a mile ahead, a tractor-trailer tire explodes. As long as they give you appointment dates and deeds—January surgery, April chemo, August radiation, October follow-up—you’re okay, something is being done.  Black coils of rubber showering the front, cars braking and veering, me looking for an off-ramp. When they give you a unit of time, you’re screwed. I’ve never witnessed a blowout on a highway, just the rubbery remains. Never saw the unraveling.

K.A. McGowan currently teaches electronics at Remington College in Lafayette, LA, and his two chapbooks are Rubric and No Passengers. He’s adding music (guitar) to energize his poetry readings.