You’d think time had lost its way for you
You laughed before you thought this
Then earth rolled under wheel as
you drove across Route 80 blinded by sun
Putting on shades startled the Ute & Shoshone
(Jim Bridger settled later as the beaver trade dried up)
Muskets, bright feathers, phantom beadwork, bulldozers
Are all implements that turn the wheel
They speak to you as no other history does
Then you “cracked” the window to breathe fresh air
It adds up to a fraction of any life and yet
you are not the Dallas Cowboys, the Los Angeles Raiders, the Denver Broncos
You are not the Washington Redskins or New York Giants
(In the growing incredulity of these names)
You are She’s-Driving-a-Car-on-a-Saturday
Observing a dirt truck kick up a mirage
You are moving down the incline too
Curious & smaller than the rest of the dinosaurs
Perhaps this is the last light you will ever see
Lining the beautiful earth