Bad Roads
Dec 19 2022
Nothing changed
when we crossed the state line.
The prairie sky
and distant mountains,
dry scrub-land
blowing dust.
Store-fronts, boarded up,
cluttered junkyards
where abandoned cars
go to rust.
There was a welcome sign, of course,
and the pavement abruptly changed.
Because on this side
they believe on self-reliance;
small government
low taxes
bad roads.
Someone had used the sign
for target practice.
Nice welcome, I thought
to the Old West
the New Frontier.
But we are coastal.
As far as you can go,
and just as mythological
in its own way.
Where all the misfits, contrarians
and creators end up;
like rolling stones
that only an ocean can stop,
piling up against the coast
and shaking things up.
We kept the windows shut
A/C on high.
The scenery scrolled by
at highway speed,
but we rarely looked out.
Not with our eyes
cast down on our devices,
the virtual world
with its many distractions
we never left behind.
That travels with us
no matter what.
And after we crossed the great divide
it was an easy downhill,
coasting all the way
to the end of the road.
A parable for the 2 solitudes of red and blue America. Divided on lines of race, young and old, urban and rural, educated or not. Those fearful of change, and those embracing it. At best, not listening. At worst, demonizing the other.
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