|
the
road sings to me when i drive at night.
the broken center line keeps the
beat.
guardrails & glowing signs
are voices & musical instruments,
singing whole notes, half notes
& quarter notes.
cracks in the road & weeds
on the shoulder are eighth & sixteenth notes,
climbing up & down the scale.
the songs change with the road...
the road to kayenta is a twangy
nasal country song
with empty land & rabbit brush
wailing
about a broken hearted navajo cowpoke
with skinny cows that subsist on
blowing sand & car exhaust.
the song goes on to tell about
the neighbors with their pitbulls & rottweillers
& how they think they are so
"different" from the average nava-joe.
their sattellite dish & pontiac
grand-am with tinted windows, cb, cd & cellphone;
& stickers of a mutated calvin
or taz are stuck on the windows,
telling us how alike we really
are.
I17 past bumble bee is a fast dance
tune with a diva.
silver metal & bright signs
in yellow, green, blue & brown
are strobing & flashing like
lights in a big city club.
& the occassional navajo city
slicker,
slouches at a table, sipping on
a drink.
the feet start tapping.
the affliction spreads to the legs,
the torso, the arms & the head.
then they're out there on the dance
floor,
shaking their booty, singing along
to the song,
far away from the rez, far away
from their identity...
US666 through table mesa is a song
sung in navajo.
not the slang-navajo that i can
understand, but the symbolic navajo
that grandmothers & grandfathers
speak in soft humming tones...
& i think i understand, but
they're singing way above my head.
yellow head lamps illuminate the
stage...
the black sky & stars curve
up above into a great ampitheater.
i drive in the dark to another
destination, listening for another song.. |
