Dromophilia (Love for the Road)

I will never end my affair with the curves of her California highway,
a strap casually hung over her spring green sundress, I-880 north.

Grassy laces that ripple with the breeze,

Bouquets of liveoaks cascade from her knees

She lies in the baby blue indigo sky,
Her hips and soft elbows rise on both sides,
And each bright white cloudlet is her whisped, loving sigh.

If she would oath never to stray, then by my oath, neither would I.

John Ballard 4/29/10

{ ed. note }

I originally wrote this spontaneously last Thursday while driving I880 N toward Sacramento. Downside of that is that I had to try to funnel my inspiration into a text message, while driving, that I intended to save as a draft. Carefully I word-smithed, with one thumb, glancing down frantically every half-mile, and pressed "Save as draft." My phone replied "Draft Box Full" and my poem was gone. I tried to recreate the moment through dictation, as a sound file on my phone, which was a terrible failure. I am afraid I am not a fan of my own speaking voice. So in truth this is a rewrite, not the original. But it is very, very close, and the differences are more in the articles and conjunctions than the adjectives, verbs or nouns, which my memory preserved nicely for me. So much to say, the spirit of the moment remains intact. It was one of the most beautiful days I have ever seen. Old friend Mr. Paul B.D. McNiel was my Sacramento airport arrival, and can corroborate the previous statement. ~J.G.B.