This one doesn't have a title yet (it might never). I approached the assignment of gasoline in a rather literal sense, using the car as a metaphor, in the traditional American fashion, of freedom. This one is a Road Poem of a sort.
Dusty road stretches to infinity
Route 66 blacktop, cracked and
Faded yellow lines vanish
In the distance, ahead and behind.
A blinding blue sky above
So sharp, like a straight razor,
It cuts eyes behind dark lenses.
Pavement below, rubber and road meet
Does the car move along the road,
Or the road beneath the car?
Does it matter? The rush is the same.
Wind whipped hair flying,
Laughter and freedom merge into
Ragtop dreams of speed.
Flying without fear,
Burning distilled dinosaur juice
Along a deserted trail, straight.
Last stop, gas and water,
Next stop? Beyond the edge of view
Somewhere in the distance, a place
Known but unseen, waiting for them
To arrive, below the horizon,
always just beyond the limit.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
I love the imagery here ... the implication that everything is already decided ... that the place is already waiting for the car it knows will carry its passengers to the destination. I like the serene feeling, too ...
Thanks for the feedback! I was going for a mixture of evocative imagery and the sense that the journey is never done, no matter how fast you run, the journey is the journey. And that the journey is, in fact, the point. Striving for a destination will always result in disappointment once the destination is reached. Enjoy the ride! Put the top down and to hell with the price of gas. Hit the road and keep running!
We all went in completely different directions this time!
Yours reminds me of earlier this year when, oh hell... I feel a blog post coming on now. You have inspired me!
I love it!
Post a Comment