Drive America

Ride with the sun at your back
across the country drifting in
cigarette smoke sleep.

Dawn at Illinois: pink sun over the I-94
East past Chicago factory fields
endless into Indiana water tanks.

Ohio’s gray milky Midwestern breeze
Pennsylvania, the only State with snow
until the sun finally sets over New York,

crossing borderline, rear view mirror
overarching radiance of clouds rotating
across the globe in our wake.

Buffalo, NY

Houses squeeze over the concrete
until a fine glaze of salty Christmas lights
string the trees together. Purple drifts
collect under black bridges.

Red tail lights illuminate
dusky highway signs us into
Sweet Home Rd., little houses
blinking in the twilight.

NYC

Rows of headlights
stretch out building grids
usher me in and out
in a few hours made of light

shining doors over the street
artificial God unwelcome over
the bus station

steals my oxygen
corridors of people in
the City breathes for me
in its own heartbeat

disposable cameras
aortas pumping TVs
walls illuminated
passing trains ticket
people by the millions

Bright midnight!
nodding at intersections
blinking lights are its pulse
the beat of pamphlet pages
with schedules
Don’t stop here, buddy
It’s Saturday night

Port Authority sits with me
melancholy unaffected
by a few days’ sleep