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Blind Rehab
“Commute by cycling. It’s almost free. You stay fit,
and you can go at your own pace.”
--Tom Hodgkinson.
I used to beat the blues
and circumnavigate the rut
by rising early
and leaving early--
something I did joyfully
for several years.
The bone chill at 5am
was bracing. The lights from Tacoma,
20 miles west, masked the stars.
The traffic flow on the three
nearby overlapping freeways
were my marching band.
The deeply shadowed alley,
where I parked my red SUV,
smiled, as my familiar shoes
crunched on the pee gravel,
echoing off darkened houses
and dew-covered vehicles.
Leaving Sumner, I had a 35 minute
commute. From my Ozzie & Harriet
suburb, I had to weave through
410 and 167 to catch 512
pushing west toward Puget Sound.
Quickly I was confronted with
Meredian Hill, a half-mile of incline
that was too often clogged with
18-wheelers. The speed limit was 60,
but if I buzzed around the behemoths
I could hit 75 at the top.
At the 20 mile marker,
I would switch to I-5 south, exiting
at Gravelly Lake Drive, following
the VA Hospital sign, cruising slowly
through a stirring Lake City--soon
paralleling the north shore of American
Lake. The VA compound was 73 acres
right on the lake, covered with a cluster
of Spanish adobe-like buildings
with red tiled roofs; an odd South Western
decor amidst a towering forest of
Douglas firs.
My building was Blind Rehab
on the SE corner of the campus,
next to the lake, a hundred yards
from the tall fence for Ft. Lewis.
Raccoons and deer begged for
hand-outs during the walk
from the parking lot.
A pair of eagles
nested snug near my office
window; their scree music.
Glenn Buttkus
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub
7 comments:
Some lovely things here - bone chill, dew covers vehicles...I like the sense of a journey through time as well as space. I'm glad you did it joyfully!
So many lovely images here that I hesitate to pick one or two out, and now find I can't as I can't access the poem again without losing my comment. I was right with you on your ride, but was unsure whether it was by bike or SUV. One was mentioned in the quote at the beginning, but another mentioned in the poem, and hard to imagine your going 75 mph on a bike. Either way, I enjoyed the ride! Excellent writing all around. Aha.. looks like this perhaps hasn't published, so I went back to find a line I particularly loved: "The traffic flow on the three nearby overlapping freeways were my marching band."
I like those raccoon and deer begging for hand outs and this description: "The traffic flow on the three
nearby overlapping freeways
were my marching band."
Good job capturing the rhythm of the city - description well done.
each milestone seemed to indicate something more meaningful than just a road marker, like a point to pull yourself together and at others to go a little slower or more mellow. it felt almost a cross country drive to me - America is a big big land
I thoroughly enjoyed this journey with you, Glenn, to and from places I've never been but would love to see. I used to love getting up before everyone else and beating the blues - hardly any cars on the road, sun coming up - bliss. The stanza that was most vivid for me is:
'The deeply shadowed alley,
where I parked my red SUV,
smiled, as my familiar shoes
crunched on the pee gravel,
echoing off darkened houses
and dew-covered vehicles.'
I also love the image of the:
''...Spanish adobe-like buildings
with red tiled roofs; an odd South Western
decor amidst a towering forest of
Douglas firs'.
The way you describe it I can see how it has etched into your mind... and the use of past tense make it stronger, knowing that it's no longer so I can imagine how each part of the road has become part of you....
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