philadelphia

this underpass, a death and rebirth,
all sugary shades of sunset orange
and plastic,
protruding from, clinging to four cement walls
as giant luminous insects
hiding from whiter light in a colony -
a hive kept alive with tremors and steel,
wretching engines, sweet and bitter fumes
of vehicles drunk on regular
or premium or gold or the dregs of diesel

casting down with gravity, rolling always faster
to be sucked in and swallowed, the light shut out
as if the sun had blinked and forgotten to peer into this sacred cement place

my side mirror pulled close to the sheer wall
that whispers to me: "come closer, pull the wheel, grate against me!"
(temptress of sand and pebble and ultimate destruction)

i hold my breath, like a child's game

blinking we emerge, ungrateful pilgrims
raging and speeding, lost in the sun
and swerving at the will of slitted eyes
receeding, pulling away from steel and glass
and the fire and the heat of white light
that obliterates the skyline of this city
that could be any other urban tease

far from my cornfields and my amiable sun
that peers into these great lakes like a firey narcissus,
urging me to be swallowed, to emerge comfortable,
slow and cheerful, idealized by reminiscence
and every comfort of home, of the good earth
and the sweet soil of novels and grandmother's house.