Andy Clausen in Home Planet News
The Highway
I see the steel living rooms
hear the rubber slapping
& scratching
Headlights gone like the times
when love would be victor
in the war for space
Those old truck stops
once a mystery & a dream
of old movies & novels
Not on this highway
lined with incinerated bones
the floatsam of genocidal calvinism
lined with tobacco stained newspapers
defunct V-8s untreaded carcasses
abandoned boots of men & of cars
brakes axels oil cans
and the green signs taking me to another mall
fast food strip prison church samsara
of sameness
This is not the land I travelled and believed in
40 years ago in the 51 Chev
I see storms brewing a repulsive radioactive spawn
I hear rich men & psychos call for death to the unknown
on the radio 24/7
I see a let freedom ring sticker
on the Coxackie Big House door
I hear Geronimo and Crazy Horse
and then don't
I hear the pop pop of death on the block
I hear the screaming and it fades
and all I can hear is the wind
in the wing & steel studs
dig into the winter road