Out on the tracks by O’Malley’s cow pasture
Tuesday night, seventeen years of age,
sneaking a cigarette; dreaming of adulthood.
Off in the distance, as I stand by a red signal light
I stare across a hundred acres of soybeans
and even further out upon Midwestern prairie,
a road sign at an off-ramp by the I-94 Tollway,
its glistening green lights flashing on and off,
speaking of a world that waits ahead.
In my heart I know those lights –
I know what they are:
A truck-stop and tavern; open all night,
catering to my deep pubescent dreams;
smoke-filled bar, jazzy music,
scantily dressed women – navels and nipples
ready and waiting for hungry truckers at midnight.
And how I wish I were older!
I will camp out in that parking lot
until my twenty-first birthday
or until some lusty blonde takes pity,
invites me in for a scotch,
and escorts me up to the secret loft.
There in the dim light as
liquid spirits ascend to my brain,
my hand slips inside her blouse
and sneaks its first feel of womanhood;
her lips, pressed against mine
I experience the pillowy, seductive
invitation of her ruby red lipstick.
My life begins and ends at those
flashing lights off in the distance,
the heavenly truck stop of my dreams
as I look out to the west from a pair of
Milwaukee Road railroad tracks.
--------------------
My dad died when I was twenty-five
and I came back home for the funeral.
Sadly, I attempted to imagine a
world without my father
who tried to lead me into manhood,
into an adult world of
responsibility and sane skepticism,
telling me to work for what I had and
take pride in how I worked.
An adult now, I was alone without a guide
without a roadmap for my path forward.
Somber and lonely, I remembered those
majestic and lusty lights
somewhere out on Interstate 94.
One cold night, I snuck away from family,
took a trip to those tracks and
scoped out the lustrous green flashes.
At last, my dreams would come true.
I hopped into my car and drove off,
miles and miles out Rockland Road.
Out by a ramp on I-94, to find my
oasis on the prairie.
And then… there it stood,
the colored lights of my youth –
a lonely neon sign facing
down upon the empty darkness
of the late-night tollway as
tired cars cruised by at night:
Holiday Inn – Next Exit.ht, seventeen years of age,
sneaking a cigarette; dreaming of adulthood.
Off in the distance, as I stand by a red signal light
I stare across a hundred acres of soybeans
and even further out upon Midwestern prairie,
a road sign at an off-ramp by the I-94 Tollway,
its glistening green lights flashing on and off,
speaking of a world that waits ahead.
In my heart I know those lights –
I know what they are:
A truck-stop and tavern; open all night,
catering to my deep pubescent dreams;
smoke-filled bar, jazzy music,
scantily dressed women – navels and nipples
ready and waiting for hungry truckers at midnight.
And how I wish I were older!
I will camp out in that parking lot
until my twenty-first birthday
or until some lusty blonde takes pity,
invites me in for a scotch,
and escorts me up to the secret loft.
There in the dim light as
liquid spirits ascend to my brain,
my hand slips inside her blouse
and sneaks its first feel of womanhood;
her lips, pressed against mine
I experience the pillowy, seductive
invitation of her ruby red lipstick.
My life begins and ends at those
flashing lights off in the distance,
the heavenly truck stop of my dreams
as I look out to the west from a pair of
Milwaukee Road railroad tracks.
--------------------
My dad died when I was twenty-five
and I came back home for the funeral.
Sadly, I attempted to imagine a
world without my father
who tried to lead me into manhood,
into an adult world of
responsibility and sane skepticism,
telling me to work for what I had and
take pride in how I worked.
An adult now, I was alone without a guide
without a roadmap for my path forward.
Somber and lonely, I remembered those
majestic and lusty lights
somewhere out on Interstate 94.
One cold night, I snuck away from family,
took a trip to those tracks and
scoped out the lustrous green flashes.
At last, my dreams would come true.
I hopped into my car and drove off,
miles and miles out Rockland Road.
Out by a ramp on I-94, to find my
oasis on the prairie.
And then… there it stood,
the colored lights of my youth –
a lonely neon sign facing
down upon the empty darkness
of the late-night tollway as
tired cars cruised by at night:
Holiday Inn – Next Exit.
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