Flapping in the Wind
by Ken Hada

Driving through Alpena
I saw a guy sitting on a porch
drinking Mountain Dew
from a two-liter plastic jug.

A faded rebel flag hung
askew in the front window
beside a rusted screen door
flapping in the wind.

I saw his face close as I
passed (gearing down
for small-town cops). I saw
his eyes, his red ears

and he saw me. In that
chance glimpse of recognition
I shifted gears and thanked
God for plastic jugs.

Copyright 2023 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.