Astral Shepherd

Rookie (1948 / Mass.)

Route 66 - Poem by Astral Shepherd

LA to Chicago
eight state snake
the road not traveled
any more

Wind Wing Widows
orphans to time
passing lanes
sights, sounds, signs

road, motels, cafes
lost to memory
cracked black asphalt
white flight concrete

ribboned heaves
heat wave weaves
lines ride white hot
Silver Shadow
Rolls no longer
Merging lanes and Chevy dreams
Fords no longer scream
down route 66

Flagstaff arid breezes belch
neon burps:
“Blue Swallow Motel
100% Refrigerated Air
Vacancy, TV”
Whiting Brothers
Phillips 66
while tires sing
desert songs:
“Burma Shave”
“Last Chance for Gas”

somewhere my America
tumbled
weed like rolling
Left blinker on
turning Right.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 15, 2005

Poem Edited: Monday, September 25, 2006


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