Wednesday, July 25, 2018

Poem

Turnpike PA


Turnpike claustrophobic:
Narrowed lanes, hemmed in
By orange cones and
Rumble strips.
Soft shoulders,
Long trips through a
Ceaseless night.
Can't breathe, anaerobic,
Smoke rising up from leaning trees,
Closing in,
White lines smeared,
Boundaries between road and wild obscured
Forest on fire
Or maybe it’s always just been fog.
Addled minds
Blurred west-bound headlights.
Mile and then mile,
I count the tenths of miles,
Endless white knuckled slog


Kittatinny Mountain tunnel
Opens up in the darkness
Like a gaping mouth,
Semi-circle of reprieve.
Gash in the base of rock.
Arched walls lined with blocks of yellowed tiles
Like old teeth
In jaundiced gums.
Swallowed up in
Curved calming solidity.
Stay in your lane,
No passing allowed.
Our places are all defined;
Rectangles, squares, well lit lines,
Sound dulled to dying reverberation,
The regular thrumming of tires over seams.
Everything is just what it seems.
Too soon, we emerge on the other side,
The darkness at the end of the tunnel.
Try to resume previous speed.


7/24/18

1 comment:

Old FoolRN said...

I will think of you every time I drive through that tunnel.