A road
It goes on, and on, and on,
Stretching for miles
in unchaning, featureless concrete
Marked by details ,unseen,
Ghosts of bodies left behind screaming,
Tire marks, marking a reckless joyride,
Drunken Joy, ending in a deep sleep on a seedy motel bed,
Memories, lost on this road, of decades of stale vactaion ideas,
Children stagnating in the backseat, chanting when lord when,
When we will get there, escape the moldy air of this compact,
Lines flash by with unfathomable speed, chipped only
And marred only by roadkill stain
Gray on Yellow on White,
The long dead, live again here
In New Bodies, new great ideas
Done a Thousand time over
on this road
A memory Lane?
No, just a road
A point A to point B
In the nothing desert
of someone's home
This physical manifestation of reality
This is real, it reacts to your senses
I pulses with past life-ness
You have been here, we all have
On the inumerous branches, all ends the same
Here, there, then, now, all the same
All in the end
At a limit line of life
a metaphor, no, just a road