We rode faster on the way home.
As the storm crawled over the mountains to my right
I began to notice things I had not given thought
To before, as I was preoccupied with reaching
My destination in record time.
But now I was hurrying for another reason.
The storm was approaching quickly but
Hardly detectable
Slowly stalking over the mountains and casting an ominous shadow
Over the highway and the roadside memorials
Weathered by time with names that are now
Peeling and cannot be read by the passing machines that
Would not look anyway or care to know whose life ended on that highway
Years before, when the disintegrating walls of the old buildings were newly painted and cared for
By other names no longer remembered.
Buildings, memorials in themselves of dreams tasted but never fully realized
Now only their peeling, splintered skeletons remain as a testimony to someone’s hopes
That existed long ago
Beside that highway.
As I raced to beat the rain I thought about how temporary it all is
The buildings, the memorials, the highway, this moment and the
Storm which would cover all of it including me
And how the machines that care not for such things
Will still be passing it all by
When there is nothing left to remember us
Contributors Note: I have graduated from Cerro Coso, and will be attending CSUB in the fall of 2010.
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