To The City We Go
The first trip to the big city
is a rite of passage, even for the boys
who practice looking “cool”
as they hang out in the food court
between viewings at the movieplex,
with its IMAX screen and 3D images.
The girls map out the stores that fill
their dreams each night, their fingers
tingling with the thrill of touching
what they can otherwise only see in magazines.
Some come for the specialists who care
for the sick in a three-county-radius,
another rite of passage.
The two-hour drive across flat plains
dotted with mesquite trees and tumbleweeds,
fields of cotton and cattle grazing
on stubs is filled with music blaring
from radios tuned to Oldies stations,
country music, or football games
waving through the air. Even tornadoes
know to flow in straight lines here,
running parallel to a universe
where tradition clings like the bugs
in the grills of every truck and car
whizzing down the highway.
April 12, 2015