Monday, January 19, 2009

Oil-and-Rock Roads

[I haven't been writing for the prompts at Weekend Wordsmith for a while, but I do look at them nearly every week. This week, the prompt "road" struck a chord.]

Oil-and-Rock Roads

My bike followed the oil-and-rock roads all over town,
smelly and sticky from the new coating,
leaving black spots on the frame,
and on my white socks.

My feet walked black-top main roads,
baked hot and soft in the humid summer heat.

My mom's car thumped along the concrete
of St. Louis Avenue, cracked and patched
from the never-ending freeze/thaw/bake cycle.

My grandad's hands laid the brick underneath
Gallatin Street, hidden below asphalt, except
for an occasional worn spot where the red
peeked through from the past.

My back turned to all those roads,
I sped east to the land of granite curbstones
where no one had heard of
oil-and-rock roads.


one more believer said...

excellent point of view... the familar and a new adventure brewing...

sister AE said...

thanks, omb.

SlyGly said...

This is beautiful! I love the imagery. I know well that freeze/thaw/bake cycle.

sister AE said...

Thanks, SlyGly!

Tanya (aka NetChick) said...

Wow... Great word-crafting. Thanks for sharing this!

Hope I can lure you over to the MEET n' GREET going this (and every) weekend on my blog, after taking over from Michele! It'd be great to have you a part of the fun!

sister AE said...

Hi, Tanya. Thanks, I'll stop by.

Rob Kistner said...

Greetings – This is a very engaging piece -- the journey through teh generations... enjoyed it!

I invite you to stop by Image & Verse again for a visit, or just to say hello.


sister AE said...

Thanks, Rob. I will stop by when my work lets up a bit.

Carmi said...

The connection with your grandfather: powerful.

sister AE said...

Hi, Carmi. Thanks. I never knew him, but as a kid I heard about him working on that road back in the Depression. In good times he was a cook.