Roads that carry the rubber-neckers slowly home.
Wise roads that know the land.
Roads meant to be danced instead of driven.
Roads that rise up, arch up like a lover to meet the willing traveler.
Roads so sleek & silken, they pour you all watery, into your destination.
Roads that shine in the moonlight, skin-like, vaporous & promising
Roads dying from neglect, disappearing & forgotten by all but
Small wild things seeking clear path & dust bath.
Parched dusty roads of brittle, tearless farewells.
Those slick with sorrow, treacherous with unmet longing
Roads that split & tear the land, hold it open, stiff fingers
In a continuous, shrieking wound.
Those that have let the land heal around them, take itself back in slow, ragged certainty.
Roads rising and falling deeply as your lover’s breast in sleep.
Mischievous swirling roads doubling back in the twisted glee.
Roads that carry you where you never wished to go – or return
Roads that call up from the maps’ webbing, cry out & beg to be traveled
Roads that take you through the land, but even more, take the land through you.
Roads that carry you from the moon to the sun
Roads to everywhere - and nowhere.
Roads that may not stop for the horizon
© 2002 Claudia Schmidt - Pragmavision Publishing