Archive
03/21/11 - (2)
Embracing the Great River Road
Sunday a.m. is the nascence of a new spring season, An awakening, from blessed nakedness, into a graceful celebration of now. It's an epiphanic expression of exultation and expectation, Gratitude for another "just ours" day we'll spend together. It's an inhalation and exhalation of our hearts, beating in timelessness.
Soon, we're settled deep into the black-leather contour seats Of our sleek, blade-silver-metallic Corvette C6 LS3, Buckled up, poised to explore whatever may lie before us, As though we're Lewis and Clark setting off on an intrepid journey To map infinitum incognita's vast beyond.
Heading north, we clear the city's edges, speed east, then north again, And, reaching Alton, where the Missouri and Mississippi rivers merge, Zoom westward, along the Great River Road, Which stretches, cleanly, between Old Man, on our left, And the chalky cliffs to our right, which, long ago, contained a glacier.
Our car is a magnificent piece of responsive physical design, Hugging the continuously winding, super-smooth concrete, Which begs us to caress its contours, at 60, 70, 80, 95. Before we know it, we've passed Elsah, elided into Grafton, And have stopped for lunch, outdoors, at a Victorian restaurant.
Our conversation billows with the exhilaration we're feeling. Neither of us has known such soul-freedom since we were teenagers, In St. Louis and Brooklyn — thrilled children, giddy kids, really, Tasting, for the first time in our juvenescence, the kingdoms of the world. We can almost not control our overflow of emotions.
Then, once more, we're rolling. Now, you're in the driver's seat. I love the way you take, so fluidly, naturally, to the paddles, The ease with which you up- and downshift the six gears, Playing the curves for all they're worth. I'm completely relaxed and at peace, in your commanding hands.
I admire your focused passion, the unadulterated happiness you derive, Driving with devil-may-care carefree carefulness; Indeed, I feel as though you and I are making deep-seated love, Driving deeper and deeper into the deepest interiors Of the depthless machinery that is our shared sensibility's engine.
One hundred thirty miles and five hours later, We park, say good-bye, for another structured workweek, To the exuberance our mutual childhood still elicits, Grateful it's transported us, so gloriously, so voluptuously, so lovingly, On the wheels of this sunny spring Sunday afternoon.
03/21/11 - (2)
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