6178. INTENSIFICATION

INTENSIFICATION

This highway is a brute; you have forced

my hand. I am speeding past the human points

and exits, seeking another land. Entirely, that is.

I have known five hundred people to say the

least  -  talking and badgering all the sure-points

of such communication. This highway is a brute.

-

I am turning off  :  having paid the toll just far

too many times. Most of the rest, I can easily

ignore  -  there goes a pancake house, someone

else's stupid Hot Dog Johnny's, a beefsteak palace

and a barbecue. A garden store, and something

for adults. 'Lowest prices in the state!' Yes. This

Pennsylvania is surely a very funny place.

-

This highway is a brute, yet I take it all in.

Quite astute of me, don't you think, to have

packed for you to eat on the road, while we

drive. Everything else is shuttered after five

anyway : not much to do once the sun goes

down in this Winter town. The Mayor, I

bet, plays marbles with his kin.

-

Over there, look at that, it's Mauch Chunk, where

the coal wars were settled out. Men were executed,

yes, right there. The Molly Maguires, they were called.

Go ahead, look it up on your every-loving, linked-in 

phone. Labor wars took all the fun out of working.

-

Now that everything else has been settled and closed,

doesn't it all make us seem so defensive and useless,

each at the same time? One place is as good as the next,

I suppose. A good day for a hanging, a nice day to die.