Down an orphaned bypass, trailing with ash
Near a slide of asphalt off the next ramp
Memories of gridlock are stained in the tarmac
As Tire tracks trail like, old Viking runes
And only the desperate come down this route
you can see it in windows, the haunted and scarred
Speeding along in their shortcut from shame
For this is the corridor made for the damned
and the billboard ahead, that's frayed and torn
Is still traced in words of proselytize dreams
(that nobody reads) -
(or cares to see)
for it says
HAPPINESS FOUND HERE!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
unique topic, well-written, atmospheric. There is something about road signs along a highway that sets my mind to wandering into old memories
thank you Susan, I was thinking of a line from a book, and then thinking of all the road signs and billboards that we pass, I remember visiting Florida and just seeing line after line of billboards off the highways with messages that get passed by and in most cases ignored, same thing in Toronto and Montreal and anywhere really.