POEM: whiteout

whiteout

the 18-wheeler comes up from behind me
passes my front bumper and disappears into
the wall of snow as if into a new dimension

I’ve slowed nearly to a stop, inching forward
I guess this is a metaphor, right?
a comparison of the course of my life to the drive

it works even better because at the end of the drive
I’m at my parents’ house, arguing with my ex-wife
like some kind of overwritten Hallmark movie

my 14-year-old, meanwhile, is tired of my activism
doesn’t want to hear about “white privilege” anymore
thinks I spend too much time critiquing people’s actions

back on the road, an elderly couple in a Buick LeSabre
passes me with a sort of devil-may-care confidence
I’m not sure how to interpret that, but it can’t be good

the return trip is more or less the same:
blowing snow that obscures the way forward
cars and trucks that vanish like a Copperfield trick

at the end, though, there’s one big difference
a van pulls into a parking lot and out they step
melting the snow with one perfect tackle-hug

/ / /

Jason Crane
13 March 2017
State College PA