Traveling through lush green corridors
of our oxygen giving brothers as they
wave their branches wildly at us,
we pass through them on a brownish,
gray ribbon of asphalt that winds itself south.
Solid lines and then broken ones in the middle.
Rectangles brightly colored litter the landscape
with symbols begging for attention.
Sleeping passengers breath softly and deeply
as the miles go by.
copyright 2008 Tricia Baehr all rights reserved
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