Spoonful: A Gathering of Stone Soup Poets

An extension of Cambridge's Stone Soup Poetry Venue.

Poem by Erin Reardon

Photo by Cindy Williams

Road Poem

Should I be grateful?
Because you filled my gas tank just before I lit the match?
Ain’t no baby baby babies gonna rock me to sleep tonight
Evil never sleeps, it never sleeps
Only bites down fierce on your amphetamine tongue
When you first looked at me
I felt like the last girl on Earth
And you can take that however you want

You see, there’s a highway stretched before us
Engine’s all but locked and loaded
Ready to rev and roll
This is how prophesies and legends get started
Mississippi swampland
Or trees that bend in a Cheyenne wind
We burn rubber and the steering wheel is screeching
Hubcaps wobble like spinning nickels on a Virginia motel room floor
The kind of place where you can still see chalk outlines
Of those who chased the demon dream before

And should I be anxious?
Saddlebags and hitching thumbs intact
Cause my baby baby baby’s gonna light up that road when dawn kisses the horizon
Evil never sleeps, it never sleeps
And we know too well that grief is a hard left turn
Into a canyon wide enough to swallow pick up trucks and netherworlds
I’ve been through these parts before
So you can let me off wherever you want

I’ll be ready. I’ll be ready.