THE SCENTED ROAD

The 30th poem on the 30th day of April for National Poetry Writing Month

 

And on runs the road,
rushing in rings around us,
faster than feet can find footing, 
brisker than bodies can breath, 
holds lost in the hustle and hurry,
securities slipping by the sidelines,
hearts hurtling off into hills 
parted and passed
before properly appreciated, 
faces fading into flashbacks;
were his green eyes 
really brown or blue?
I catch his aftershave
in an afterthought 
but it’s mixed now 
with other musks,
other bodies, other owners,
other moulds the meanders made of me
on the sweaty scented streets
that scurry by in seconds.
 
And on runs the road,
tracks turning with time 
too tight to keep track of,
to uncertain to ascertain 
as changing lanes change lives
and loads, luggage left for others
to look through and lovers
left for others to latch onto;
swapping suitors at service stations 
like they were something to eat,
something to drink,
a seduction along the sojourn,
a kiss to capture and captivate us,
to carry us carnally on to the next carriage,
the next imminent interchange. 

And so another road opens
and on it endlessly runs
and I’m always rushing at the rear,
duly dreading and delighting 
in the connections to come
beyond the bracing bends…

All Words and Photography by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph taken in De Hoge Veluwe, Netherlands

Listen to the audio version on Soundcloud:

https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/the-scented-road