In March of 2016, a close friend of mine drove from Atlanta to his home in Beverly Hills, near Los Angeles, and I joined him for the adventure. Inspired by the sights, I spontaneously decided to write one poem for each major city or region we traveled through. The name of this project alludes to the airport codes, and colloquial abbreviations, of our start and end cities.
On the road, to the west
We are headed, to where the sun sets
Not on land but on sea
A place for an old friend to be.
We'll stop at New Orleans
And walk through her streets
But we are headed to where the sun sets
In a place in the west
Not on land but on the sea.
A home for an old friend to be.
Wandering loud streets and trying to be lost
We're all drinking but we're still thirsty
Being hurt and being happy,
Are all in the same city,
Two sides of one coin
Spinning around like the police light
A man is singing Frank,
About heartbreak.
The band keeps playing
When no one is dancing
Instead, watching with eyes and hearts alight
But their steps and speech not quite right
Sky and smoke mix like bourbon and water
Color and lights swirl in one cup
Music crashes on itself from all sides
Like the people crashing into each other
A man full of desire, a woman certain of pleasure
Underneath the slurry façades, though
There is the pain and longing
So universal to the human experience
And what about her? Well,
She is all of them
A piece of her is here, a memory of her is there
So when I look down the street,
I see the universe
And the universe is her.
Thank you,
For enduring fire and smoke
To give me the food.
It was so
Sweet and delicious;
Sweeter than the honey cider
And the sweet corn.
It was
Softer
Than the potatoes.
You worked so hard
And spent your life on your craft,
So that when the man cut
The rock, seared black,
And it steamed from inside
Of salt and spice,
It was your blood,
Galvanized,
From a stone,
And it was magic.
Turn, turn, turn
Three blades on the turbine go
Around and around and around
Twelve revolutions per minute
Steady and always clockwise
Blow, blow, blow
The wind that cooled the sweat off our skin
Now gives us light and full batteries,
Television and hot dinners, and cold ice cream
Ceaseless and ageless, but the wind is still new
Toil, toil, toil
We mined the Earth and the sea
The arctic tundra and the desert wastelands
For black gold and burning rock
Why not the Sun and the sky?
Twist, twist, twist
They said you were ugly
But I find you beautiful
Simple and gentle, carefree and agile
You stand in defiance and in harmony
Spin, spin, spin
You don't care how the wind blows
Whether the sun lights or the rain flows
Because you can't have feelings
But we care about you, I think
Help, help, help
Will we make it, can we make it
Are you enough, is this enough,
Because you're supposed to save us, this
Earth, Earth, Earth
There once was a tire on an Infiniti
Rolling many miles across the country
But the Arizona heat
Had the tire beat
Blowing out into pieces like confetti
There once was a tire on an Infiniti
Rolling many miles across the country
Like its brother before
Blew out after 30 miles more
Sending the travelers into a great cursing frenzy
Here on the edge of the pier, where 66 ceased to be,
Is the land where the sun and the sky meet the sea
Where a sun sets on boulevards and bared skin
And a son is driven to his mother, his kin
To have and to hold, to love and to dote
By a friend who rode through thick and thin
A journey must end when one is home
But for another, the search is still unknown
Is one a seeking traveler or the sought destiny
Where the heart meets another like the sky meets sea
To have and to hold, to love and to dote
For a home to call own, a new place to be