I was driving on I-71 to work one day last week and I passed the site of where I saw a terrible accident one morning about a year ago. I hadn't thought of it in a long time, but something made me think of it that morning. After I passed the accident I saw over a year ago, I got to work and tried to look up what had happened. I found a little blurb on traffic.com about it. (Very little is reported on the news about accidents that happen on I-71 north of the 275 loop because apparently things that happen in rural areas don't matter.) Per traffic.com, a pick-up truck struck a deer and someone stopped to help them and then someone else hit that car that had stopped and ended up on their top, in the middle of the median. No fatalities were reported, but I can tell you that from how bad the car looked and how close in proximity they landed to the edge of gorge that goes down to the Little Miami River, it was probably a close call for someone.
So on the recent morning when I was thinking of all this, I started thinking of some other car accidents I've witnessed and about all those white crosses on the side of roads that indicate where someone died in a car crash. I thought about all the people that have died on the stretch of I-71 I drive everyday and decided I didn't really want to be driving on the same road were all those bad things happen. Not much I can do about it. I just makes me feel weird and sad.
One hates the thought
of driving on blood highways,
but how else do we get
from there to here?
Oh, cumbersome thoughts.
Oh, misfortunate musing.
Perhaps better to coast.
Unthinking.
Am I allowed to use made-up words in poems if I know they aren't really words, but they sound like they should be words?
No comments:
Post a Comment