wheels are gods

so onto the highway
looking forward now
daylight blessing the dashboard
and road-signs falling down
cicadas drunk, singing
the same lines over
and over – rainbows trapped
in webs between garbage cans
in suburban streets
after long nights of
being still and the haggard faces
of clouds drooping over rooves
rain like the echo of
a thousand fists on locked doors
and we’re just about across
the state line
and the keys are light
and petrol stations rise up on
an orange horizon, tall as
saints settling on earth.

10 thoughts on “wheels are gods

  1. Awesome poem, Ash. I agree that the rhythm is fantastic. I’ve been on the road a lot lately, and you capture that mind numbing hum so well.

    The petrol stations rising up is a perfect detail and also timely. Describing them as saints is great, but having them “settling on earth” on the orange horizon is a powerful ending. It’s so true, isn’t it? We’re dependent on those gods and saints, or at least I know I am when I travel.

    I also have to applaud “daylight blessing the dashboard.” What a wonderful line.

    • Julie, thank you! It was a another struggle to get the rhythm down – glad it rings true of traveling!

      Yes, and those few troubling times when I’ve planned things so poorly, the appearance of a petrol station is truly something to be thankful for! Such relief – despite the price!

    • Cool! That’d be pretty amazing. I’m going to have to put that on now, Pearl – thank you. Going to see how far I get through the album before I have to switch it off for a breather. So dark!

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