Archive
02/08/10
Too Fast
This past Saturday a.m., Driving home, from Greencastle, Indiana, to St. Louis, I witnessed, to my stupefaction, bewilderment, horrification,
The aftermath of Friday's blizzard (Which began at dawn and raged through the violently gusty night), Strewn, for sixty-eight grisly miles,
Along the intermittently slick Interstate 70 corridor Connecting Terre Haute with Effingham, Illinois — A dismal desolation of jackknifed-tractor-trailer and car wreckage.
Oh, the looming destruction: fifteen rigs twisted grotesquely; I quit counting passenger vehicles at eight, Though I'm sure there had to be at least two dozen more.
And all the while, less than twelve hours after the storm, I drove, with maniacal fear, at seventy-five, eighty, eighty-five, Thinking almost not at all
About the drivers who died or escaped, maimed for life, maybe, Contemplating nothing but arriving home, As though those hulks, abandoned in a white, unforgiving desert,
Were unearthly demons perched on the edge of a spectral abyss, Hungering for a taste of the man passing, too fast, Through a land catastrophe had civilized.
02/08/10
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