I-99
An endless river of cars
dicing time and distance
into shrinking instants
of back-spun air,
mile and a quarter
of three lanes changing
bumper to bumper
in less than a minute
makes Daytona
look tame �
and I pray uselessly
not to drive this road again.
Elliptical duals,
more skid marks
than pavement
without potholes
only the crazy
navigate intrastate
everyday � only
the numb or desperate,
the suicidal or enslaved
spin the cylinder
and squeeze the trigger
to start and end this way,
the same route
John Cutler took
two weeks to ride
five generations back
�Visalia to Sacramento �
to camp the river banks
and pen a verse
not so long ago.