is a hateful road
no matter why you take it,
one never-ending corridor
of pine and swamp
and rectilinear rear-
view. myself,
i tend to let fly left-
laned, the vanishing
point some place i
shouldn’t be, praying
east or west this
won’t be the time
my brakes give
out before i reach
home.
the tenth muse 
really like this one Ms Muse! There is a clarity of space you discribe and full of passing thoughts. Thanks .. hope your going to be invoived in the 1000 poets gig in september. cheers, andi
I love the desperation in this – in times of sorrow in my past, I’d drive home on the freeway at midnight with my lights on, until I scared my self enough to want to stay alive some more. This was beautiful and sad and mysterious and alive. Loved it. Mosk
ha…i have driven this road…and hate the slow down around yorktown honestly…when i was living in yorktown and my fam was still here in the burg…i used to just put it downt o get through it…i even blew a tire out on it once…so i would add unforgiving to the verse as well…smiles….
Nice strong piece!
Well-thought out driving metaphor, consistently woven throughout the poem. That is the strength of this composition, and I would highlight it as a strength that the writer should continuously strive to perfect.
Very real and true metaphor. I really hope you’re okay.
This is a somewhat different poem from those around it: more emphatic and grittier. Equally captivating.
I really like this. I was noticing the other day how many poems I write about being on the road.