Henry Hoffman // THE ASPHALT RIVER

The wheels escape down the road

       as sunlight streaks the hood

       the blazing plains stretch far

       bold sky

       and a car

       that would move faster if it could


The wheels charge across the chip seal

       as rain patters on the windows

       the early forest stands tall

       emerald land

       and mountains call

       to a vehicle that answers then goes


The wheels cling near the sunlit line

       as the car hurtles on unbound

       the landscape may change

       yet it’s all familiar

       and strange

       to someone hoping to be found