FREEWAY

I don’t want to hook my life onto a freeway

to get where I’m going.

The traffic is much too fast,

and nobody knows anybody else.

It’s a meager road I want

that leads through dark green woods,

mystery hanging from every tree.

There is nothing gentle about a freeway.

Cars are hard-shelled insects rushing,

racing against time…

against darkness,

red clicks of light… 

semaphore.

Home is too far away to remember.

Are there no people here?

Billboards promise pleasure.

Ambulances promise health and safety

but hint of dismemberment

and death.

Busses shrouded in dark windows

protect passengers from seeing the world.