The road to Veneta is
straight and narrow.
Fern Ridge on the right,
flooded fields on the left.
Trees always all around.
(from rainfall and the carved out lake)
leaked onto the road all summer.
The sky was often a
brown-blue or greenish color;
sick, just like my stomach.
pounded asphalt in its infancy.
The local Bimart appeared almost abandoned at times,
but Ray's is highway robbery.
A simple town,
tainted with memories of bad visits.
Veneta isn't a terrible place. Being honest.
But I can't stand to
taste the air anymore.