Natural History

I remember the road,
          the air raging against us
                            while time refused to move.
          My father wore driving gloves
                  absurd shorts
                        a proud mullet.

            When we stopped for gas he’d take note:

  • The odometer
  • The amount of gas
  • The reconciled mileage

             He’d check the oil each time.

Spitefully, the car gave up before he did,
                      and for three days in Virginia
            my sister and I waited for parts to arrive,
                          so he could fix it.
            and we-
                                        could get back on the road.

I remember he was always confident-
                  hopeful;
          only ever briefly apologetic,
                secreting his resentments away
                      to hasty whispers he alone could hear.

When we finally arrived in DC,
      we had two days left to visit the smithsonian…

I can’t remember why I enjoyed it so much.

Impetus

Wind through the desert finds levity
rising with the accumulated heat
flowing past deep read monoliths
that whisper of oceans long dead,
of fish and whales and other beasts.
Whispers overwhelmed by present sounds
birds, coyotes and rodents
rocks tumbling beneath careless paws
and – another noise, angry and forced.

The skyline is a well tended furnace
clouds just kindling in the fire
thick cords of pine
brittle bark, fractured and eclectic
some loose straw stretching over the canopy;
the fires on the horizon catch them all
draw them over the precipice of day
to slumber amongst the embers
yet – a false light rises with the night.

The smell of ancient minerals
millions of years in the heat,
rust and stagnation permeates
with mesquite and forgotten rain.
When the sun is at its highest
the scent of burnt oxygen prevails
now at night creosote returns
a muted persistent dream
but – a foul odor imposes.

Steel tracks scream through the canyons
level the mountains, fell the trees
cutting through with lines and destinations
like the maps that inspired their creation
while great pillars of soot vomit out their tops,
too dark to for any light to survive
and the smell of coal, ground metal, motor oil
announce that the train has arrived.