Destination
Fin is from Barstow. This is a poem from his Refinery Row series.
Destination
The car moved along the freeway
westbound
toward refinery row.
the night had crept in quickly
and the derricks
quietly lifted their heads like horses
the lamps on the buildings
revealed the mansard roofs
and smooth walls with long dark windows
as the car moved past
open fields, brush
at the roadside
a long metal shelf was covered with junk
that looked like car parts
so perfectly arranged
had they been books
this would be an
exquisite library
the underpasses were empty
and the abandoned houses
with open doors
panted like sleeping mouths
The car moved past the exits
past the one named after a mountain
MLK - of course he thought -
and took the main thoroughfare
to The Row.
In the parking lot
a man with a tattooed face
was selling food stamps
for half price
a girl riding with hair like a tumbleweed
on a skate board sang
to the country song on
the portable radio she was carrying.
a couple moved a shopping cart
across the street and cackled
Somewhere there is a destination
Somewhere there is a place to be....