ROUTE 66

Route 66
is stamped in my mind
like a childhood emblem
unfurling into a distant ribbon of grey
stretching to touch the horizon.

Our family
knew it well
had explored its turn-offs,
potholes, and detours,
painting the car with its desert dust.

Gallup, New Mexico
was an old friend
a small enigmatic town
hugging one long street
a minor legend in its time.

We gave our car her head
(at least that's what Dad said)
and she led the way
she knew it well
and we expected no surprises.

Route 66 --
not a highway at all
but a rail of gestation for America's families
a gallery of gas stations
cafes and souvenir shops

Maybe not now
but in the days
before we travelled by computer
and instead took the blacktop route
to getting to know one another.