roadside attractions in poetry

seven hundred and sixty five miles
from here to the fireworks shop
those vaguely racist billboards
advertise down the ninety-five

one thousand six hundred and five
from here to the drug and donut shop
in the middle of nowhere South Dakota
from the middle of nowhere Adirondacks
those are the milemarkers
those are the Google Maps
those are the rough facts

sun-bleached crosses by guardrails
throughout route five and five-s
where I learned to drive in cars
though California taught me best

careless corpses on the Thruway here
no longer slowed by booths for tolls
two hundred and ten to New York City
as my hearts far far too well knows

if you really wanna gawk
you should probably walk
though I’m rarely so wise
can’t help but shift eyes
no matter how much I try
I can’t help but witness
whatever else there is