Coyote Mercury

words, birds and whatever else by James Brush

U.S. Highways

 

We read lines and studied rest stop signs to
learn the languages that govern highways.

Electric rivers flowed outward from cities
in red trails along the eastern highways.

We lived on the salty French fry grease and
fast food feasts of American highways.

We waited through summer road construction,
rebuilding and slowing northern highways.

In the mountains, we squinted through the dark
studying switchbacks to discern highways.

Green shadows crept across the road through
endless rolling tree-lined southern highways.

We avoided the rest stop stares of owls
and meth addicts on nocturnal highways.

In the desert night, lightning played with stars,
and we saw God on the western highways.

The engine downshifted, slow to grip the
road; tires clung like goats to mountain highways.

At night in desert motel rooms we laughed
and followed love down unspoken highways.

4 Comments

  1. James you certainly bring the life of travelling on the road
    in America out so well!I felt like I was on a road trip.
    Nice one!
    Pamela

  2. Good description of being on the road. Not hippies or alternate people because they don’t eat that kind of food. Must be tourists with NESB.

    • Thanks, Rallentanda. Unfortunately (at least back in my road tripping days) there weren’t many choices, especially in Arizona and New Mexico. The treat was always finding something in some little town somewhere that wasn’t fast food. Or that at least wasn’t chain food :)

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