A few years back I was driving back up the East Coast headed for DC to visit one of my best friends.  I had been to Southern Virginia before, but never during peak cherry blossom season. It was snowing flowers all over the place.  I stayed at his apartment in Arlington and took the Metro into DC.  I drank whiskey at an Irish pub, rode around the Metro, saw Stonewall Jackson’s grave, smoked in alleys, and stood in front of the White House.   I had a notebook in my back pocket, and scribbled notes in it for a few days.  I came away with a great understanding of DC and America.  In short, I was enamored with our nation’s capital.  It lead me to write a series of poems about the experience.  This is one poem from that series.

 

On the Metro from Arlington to D.C.

 

“Highways don’t feel nothin’.  Its cities that got all the

Personality”, he said as neon hummingbirds and

Clandestine choruses sang

In the metro.

Old Virginia is an American Heartthrob

Handsome, young, and dazzling.  Flags

Dancing in the breezy sun and

That feeling of de ja vu.

I been here

Before!

All these virgin trees swaying over sun bleached

Stone, marking spots where pine boxes

Have been buried and forgot.

Stone Wall Jackson

And the lot.

A jolting sweet ride through eerie shadowy black

Tunnels will take you to a gate that, if opened,

Could lead you past a perfect lawn

Through the colonial white

Doors, and into a real

Nice house.

Above it all flies a symbol unlike any

Other.   Always recognizable across

The globe.  Colors that bleed

Freedom.  Colors that

Inspire the truth.

Because this is America!

The one we’ve all

Been waiting for!

Crissakes!

This is where the president sleeps,

Washes his socks, Takes his dump

With the morning paper,

And probably just wants

To go back to bed

For another hour

And wake up

And eat

Cold

Pizza.