The Road Never Travelled . . .

There have been a few requests, voices borne upon the wind, reaching my ears in the deepest of night's dark hours, for more poems . . . It is true, I hesitate to publish my poems here, I rather suspect many of them are pushing the comfort zone a bit, stretching into the realm of the questionable, the dubious, the downright obnoxious. I feel particularly naked when reciting my scraps of poems in public. Much of my poetry such as it is, echoes the sad and desolate place the world is becoming, as we race ever faster into an uncertain future . . . which is exactly what this one is about . . .
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I Never Even Look
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By the side of the road
I take to work every day
Where it goes up and over a hill
There is a small dirt road turn-off
And an abandoned house rotting there
That I never look at as I drive by
Light brown dirt and rocks
In the ragged trail
A dark green plank door off its hinges
Leaning against a stone wall
The dirt track goes up to the field beyond
I can see it in my mind’s eye
Although I never even glance that way
As I drive by
Bent on getting to work
And starting yet another dreary day
In the coal mines of my existence
Behind the blue and yellow prison bars
Of the barbed wire factory
Where airplanes and trucks come and go
Belching great clouds of poisonous fumes
To darken the horizon
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And each day when the weather is nice
There is a girl standing in the place
I have never seen
Leaning against the old house
She is young, very young
But not all that young
She wears black leather boots
Tight skirts a blue nylon parka
With fake fur around the cuffs and hood
The rise of pert breasts
Suggested under a white sweater
Sometimes holding an umbrella
In case of sudden showers
And her face is a mystery
Because I have never ever looked
At any of these details
She may be from Kiev or Kosovo
Or Smolensk or Slovakia
How would I know
I never saw her
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And today going by
I was in the left lane
Passing a slower car going up the hill
Driving a little too fast
Late for work as usual
I definitely purposely did not turn my head
To see her new purple parka
Nor wonder as I never do
Where she goes with her clients
And what exactly she does with them
That sexy young girl in dark stockings
Who I have never seen
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And I wasn’t looking in the mirror
To catch another glimpse
Of her radiant innocence
When a truck pulled out in front of me
And I didn’t see the heavy metal tailgate
Approaching at what seemed to be
The speed of light
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