The road stretches out into flat desert expanses
where new life bursts in tips of greens, light hues of lime, emerald, and kelly,
tiny worlds of botanic survival
blasted by asphalt in the middle, a strip of man-made dominance
once traveled only by hardened feet, wagons, horses and mules.
I can almost hear the whispers and whinnies of history,
padded footsteps of Mohave.
automobiles, trucks, and semis hurl down the road
busting through the mysterious air where whirlwind chaser and solitude reign.
We roll forward for hours and hours, almost all day.
People drive in pods, in packs,
a slow one in the left lane,
makes me clench my jaw tighter,
please let me through.
I don’t want to be in a pack when I drive.
I glance at each driver wondering where they are going,
what have they lived? What is their story?
White haired couples with out-of-state plates look like they have been on the road for years,
their children, grandchildren and relatives all moved away,
and they don’t want to sit at home
wondering who the new great grandchild resembles.
I could hardly rouse myself from an early morning dream of people everywhere, people all over the place, walking, sleeping.
Then I am in an elevator going up towards the sky.
I am looking into
the eyes of the children as we ascend.
The earth is far below us.
The city is packed with traffic, a little family is out walking.
Salty truck stops,neighborhoods, ghost towns, sprawling suburbs…so many people.
What are their hopes and dreams?
A bride clutches her dress and walks through the hotel lobby,
and a moment later
we got lost, my man and I
in a heated conversation, only from exhaustion filtering out from our pores.
I just need to see their faces once again and smell the softness of families.
We come down off the mountain
and out of the desert
My God, the traffic!