Headlights on the road
Looking for a bed
A shower
Stale cigarettes
And mildew
Saggy mattress
Flickering lights
Stale cigarettes
And mildew
Saggy mattress
Flickering lights
Time is always active
Always present
Always changing
Only consciousness
Forgets
Or represses
Time is always moving
Cultures move on
People move on
John Steinbeck devoted a full chapter of his epic roadtrip, The Grapes of Wrath, to Route 66. Five words of that chapter — three words, really — captured everyone’s imagination. Three words.
“66 is the mother road,” wrote Steinbeck. Poetry. Evocation.
I leave a trail
I follow one
I leave a mark
I seek one
I know my place
Where I am
Where I’ve been
Where I’m going
By the markers
Something
Tantalizingly near
Excruciatingly remote
Intangibly real
Exquisitely beautiful
A mote
In the corner of one eye
Visible only
In the periphery
Invisible looking straight on
All such admirable
Qualities of stone
Though I prefer
Soft
Supple
Flowing
Fluid
And I wonder
At how we build so high
When we worship our gods
Or when we think
We have become them