Roadwork

18 03 2010

I live on the Highway
Where gods and sinners ride.
Fellow travelers, all pedestrians
Or hitchhikers elite with clever destinations.

We are all a synthesis of our steps, whether
Barefoot, in sandals or in boots. Yet the road
Gleams and stretches, ever stretches.
Past even the Law and the Blooded Lamb.

I live on the Highway. My motel is motion.
Bring your dagger, your pistol, your thug stopper
Travel and feel the wind on your face
Monument to velocity
Now
Solid in your arches.

Cherish your section of the Highway.
It stretches past our sight and dips
Through valleys unimagined
Ruled by trolls and inquisitions.

I am blessed by every pebble tread
The Highway is my food and breath
I will go only so far but It continues
Beyond the blink of my birth and death.

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