To Hell and Back

Better than an Easter egg, is a poem in the hopper from Scotty B. I reckon he is lauding the annual ride through Tate’s Hell swamp. Click the title to ask him for details.

Ride west young men
beyond the smell of sunscreen
beyond the single-file smear
of “dayglo above clay”
ride west into the prevailing winter gale

Ride west my friends
past the polluted sinkhole
where the white-flight feeder-highway
turns from two lanes two four
and the “groundwater reclamation” pump
drones on into eternity beside the abandoned gas station

Ride west where there are more hills and
miles and miles of abandonment
taken over by bears and grizzly old fuddy duddys
squealing “whoop-de-doo – de – whoop-de-do!”
getting lost themselves – in their own respective homes
like CeBe Tate so many years ago

Ride west good fellows – into the yaw of the abyss
across the miles and miles of abandoned motorcycle single-track
covered with pine needles and small saplings
feel the whir of the smylak as it takes over your drive train
go and go and go
until you are spit out
at Trout Pond
behind the airport
into the “back-forty” acres of a squalling fuddy duddy with a shot gun
into the giant sand pit
onto Bice Road
onto Wallace Road
past the forgotten homages to Danang and Quan Tri
and rotting City bus tires
until you reach the edge of the wide hurling ooze – the sprawling swamp of the Apalach

then – if you are stupid enough
take that deepest gathering of air into your perception of reality
And pedal westward – into the “great beyond”

5 Responses to To Hell and Back

  1. Or stay home and plant tiny sprigs of bamboo beneath your toe nails, water, wait, repeat…