A Road Lesser Traveled

Ray Van Horn, Jr.

glass shards crying phantasmagoria along the crackled asphalt

outraged brio against the tumbling Twinkie wrappers and flattened Wendy’s cups

a goddess without offerings, much less a flock,

her name thrice changed, the same for her pantheon

a 60 mile an hour highway built upon three-second rule empathy,

opening a lane closure leading to the heart

the first t.v. Superman undone by a matchless brand of kryptonite,

Reeves dispatched by a fading monochrome

the color-washed, lone video single from a cult metal band,

given its lone play decades ago between Bon Jovi and Def Leppard

the art of doing a solid,

much less dropping a thank you

the perpetual duel between poet and espresso machine

a throughway toll paid in blood

love without pretense

the word “agreement” prefaced by harmony

decorum where the “n” word is still taboo

the swallow of a cold, starry night sky,

gorging humanity back into its measured condition

an idiosyncratic signature done in cursive,

instead of through an e-bot

the same applying to self-eroticism

folks who know what comes next after “Hey hey hey!”

or, for that matter, “My country, ‘tis of thee…”

a smile,

giving even the most desperate a sense of worth