I kept the radio on a sport’s talk station
because I did not want to hear
the conversations the drive was ready
to give if I gave silence and the way
home a chance to collaborate.
I couldn’t take that collective voice
of longing and desire creating poetry
whose purpose was to turn the car around
and drive back as if I could enter the past
by a different route without reading a sign
that read, Road Closed. That is the seduction
of the past – to find a road back.
I’ve driven enough to know that the unknown
is the only road with certainty, the one
“that goes on forever” revealing hidden beauty
and treasure and love. Still, I kept
the station on until I was out of range
and had to face my dreams and memories.
The hum of the tires like a powerful chant
keeping me from turning back.
-Byron Hoot
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