This entry is part 21 of 34 in the series Breakdown: The Banjo Poems


Saved by a banjo, she turned
into someone forever glancing
in the rear-view mirror,
someone given to sudden,
unpredictable spasms of laughter.
The amount of space
her arms now claimed with
their emphatic gesticulations
alarmed even herself:
how unladylike!
She stopped smoking & enrolled
in truck-driving school
because, she said, she didn’t
ever want to slow down.
She’d pull into rest areas
on the high plains, hold
the banjo in her lap & listen
to the non-stop wind.

Series Navigation← Banjo Origins (1): The American InstrumentMedicine Show (3) →
Posted in

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).


    1. Luck makes you feel safe? That’s an interesting perspective.


    1. Oh, thanks, Bill. Sad to say, I had already forgotten about the poor thing, and when I saw your comment, couldn’t remember having written a post titled “Luck.” Gads.


Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.