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.
