two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
the sun setting a ferocious amber tone
behind us, lighting the pavement ahead
in shades of passionate flame.
we took the one the GPS told us to,
that flat tone one we have come to trust explicitly
who guides us blindly and who leads us
wherever it wants us to go. we admire
the streaks of reds and orange fanning the sky
as we speed fast past the McDonalds, Burger King,
Arby’s, and Taco Bell all lined up in neat little rows
by the highway – familiar resting spots for forlorn travelers
to stretch their tired legs and for a greasy wrapper meal
the rest stop 5 miles down promises pamphlets
of the neatest local attractions – a spelunking cave
Amish furniture, the world’s biggest cuckoo clock
two roads diverged in a yellow wood
but now our eyes are only focused on the destination;
sights pass by plastered over in ads and dollar signs
middle America a cry to a long-forgotten childhood memory
eating a Big Mac in the backseat
the mysteries of farmland and cows whizzing by
Day 24: Write a poem that begins with a line from another poem (not necessarily the first one), but then goes elsewhere with it. This will work best if you just start with a line of poetry you remember, but without looking up the whole original poem.
This started with Robert Frost but ended with more of a thoughtful reflection on what it’s like to travel through the interstates and highways of middle America. I didn’t realize I had so much to say on this topic until I started writing – think I might have to come back to this one and flesh out more of my thoughts.
karanoia (noun): 