Blue Bonnets Bloom on the Panhandle

It was a toasted Texas Tuesday rocking
down Route 66 quashing sleep with fists
of wide-eye wake-me-ups.

I swished by wacky Wigwam Inns,
tore through insect tempests, flirted
with roller-skating, bare-skinned,
drive-ined Marilyns.

I was neon
I was come on
I was Major Betucan.

EDITOR’S NOTE: This poem was selected from entries submitted to our Creative Challenge Series #16: First Sentences, which required that the first phrase in the text must be used as given. Read other Creative Challenge winners. To find out how to participate, go to Creative Challenges.



Roy Adams did a hitch in the U.S. Army, went back to college, got a Ph.D. degree and pursued a career in labour and human rights at a Canadian university. After taking early retirement, he resumed writing and has published over 30 poems in Vallum Contemporary Poetry, Feathertale, The Fiddlehead, Hamilton Arts and Letter, Tower Poetry, other literary magazines in the U.S. and abroad, as well as in several anthologies.




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