My habit in December is to peel an orange
as I walk—bits of peel in my pockets—
pants that smell of Florida—and sometimes
approach a car at an intersection—
tap on the window—interrupt
the driver’s rapture of watching
for the green light of release—I’m sworn at
by most—flipped-off—or ignored
with the same passion I’m ignored by God—
but she rolled down her window
when I made the motion of a crank
Bob Hicok’s poems have appeared in the New Yorker, Poetry, and American Poetry Review. His books include the forthcoming Sex & Love & (Copper Canyon Press, 2016), This Clumsy Living (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2007), which was awarded the Bobbitt Prize from the Library of Congress, and The Legend of Light (University of Wisconsin Press, 1995), which was named a “Notable Book of the Year” by Booklist. Hicok has worked as an automotive die designer and a computer system administrator, and is currently an Associate Professor of English at Virginia Tech.