Some of the most interesting things occur on my daily commute. This poem is comprised of brief observations from my daily commute, clips of memories and what ifs. Inspired by Japanese writer Sei Shonagon and her collection of journals and observations.
Things in my daily commute
Everyone slows down to a crawl with discarded tires in the middle of the road; everyone swerves, honks. Late, angry and impatient, we wear our windshields as masks. What happens on the road, sometimes it’s forgiven, and sometimes it’s not.
The bald eagle stands in the median in between two busy strips of highway. He is the only thing still. His claws dig into the brown winter grass, eyeing each car as a meal.
The winter maples along the road gather fog as clothes and blankets, their bodies vulnerable and naked as a thousand bare refugees, without a home, without a Spring, stripped of their leaves.
Two stoplights in the middle of the freeway confuse all oncoming traffic. In rainy weather, some don’t brake fast enough and collide into oncoming traffic, or someone distracted by the river to the east will watch the sun rise like drops of blood on the water. They will forget the wheel in their hand, their right foot on the gas, the impact, the crash, the drops of blood on the pavement.
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