Copyright Michael Pollick 2012
Published at Smashwords
Abandoning Red Hill
'Now it is a vineyard, like so many others;/But when you taste its wine, you drink the blood of your brothers.' From Red Hill, a French folk song.
I let someone else do the driving for a little while-
I watched the lines blur behind us, each racing after the next,
towards some vanishing point just beyond the Stuckey's sign;
I am abandoning Red Hill again.