Roadside Romantic [V2]

the road to the reservation
is pockmarked with forgotten objects
lost to the greedy fingers of time

there is a rusted out car older than me
the way your father is older than you
with a for sale sign hanging in the windshield
i always expected the signs to be blown away
by a strong wind coming through the opening where a door should be
the next time i drove by
but it was there all summer

there is a small withering stream surviving deep within
the gorge below a wooden bridge
the walls of the canyon are far wider than the stream itself
an echo of a more powerful time when water
was the most dominant force on earth
but the stream will never disappear
only change direction
depth and disposition

there is a run down abandoned gas station
with windows covered by cheap rotting plywood that you
could find propped up against a dumpster
the paint is chipping and a fallen tree has collapsed the roof
written on the facade with black spray paint
temporarily closed
in lazy looping words like you would find
in a child's handwriting book

there is a fire hydrant hidden in the tangled brush
with no building to become a blaze for miles
no destruction to give it life
further down the road is a stoplight hanging from tethers
more noose than tightrope
and the burning color of purpose has long since left

the looming pines that line the path to the reservation
act as a guide and a shepherd for these
forgotten objects
ushering them into the memory
of a roadside romantic