Statewide

This road trip sours
with each tire rotation
through the Walla Walla valley
dressed in verdant silk,
past the pulp mill billowing
noxious clouds into the air,
on the wide sweep of freeway
embracing the Tri Cities sprawl,
during the slow cruise-control glide
past Yakima's ubiquitous troopers,
rising to the desolate sage
wasteland of the Army Firing Range.

Miles accumulate
on my soul and heart,
even Ellensburg unfolding
green and lovely, rimmed
by the serrated Stuart Range,
does not dispel their weight.


The rest stop at Elk Heights
swarms with holiday travelers
unfolding stiffly from vehicles,
tottering off to pee and stretch
before continuing West,
fish-scale clouds fan out
from the front settling
on the Summit, rain
descends, accenting
the clench in my gut

brought on by a long day
spent thinking how love
may not be enough
when resolve has seized up
like one of those cheap
toy cars, over-wound
until broken.