Highway 264

 

There's a highway----------------------------------runs like this across the city,
The houses north and south of the highway
Are all cookie cutter suburban, nice little neat rectangles of land
Wood siding, pointed faces, glassy trees in the yards.

But it is not the same above and below the expressway.

There's a walkway;
The ramp coils up on either side of the highway
And takes us up above the milled walls,
That funnel and contain the cars
Kept in on either side, from spilling out
nondescript masses of metal and plastic
Shooting at 70 mph;

We go up the angled walk
And up to the bridge center
Where we are suspended 35 feet in the air
Above six lanes going east and six going west.
The sun is at 110% brightness
The air is strangely slow moving.

Belows us, the stampede of aluminum horses
Is a strong presence;
Thousands of pounds of movement
I watch, clinging the fence that circles up,
I can feel the whipping of the air currents
From a distance-----I feel them in motion
The salmon fighting upstream
Clamoring for the quickest way through
All the cars and the freight trucks
Shaving seconds off their journey
For no real reason but to feel a little more in control