out of town for the weekend

OUT OF TOWN FOR THE WEEKEND
by casey bush
under the bridge a bum moons the passing commuter train
he’s already in his office while I’m still on the way there
Friday we all wear bluejeans in a gesture to alleged freedom
review the agenda attend the meeting spend hours writing
minutes
at the end of a long work week I head for the hills
along with countless throngs evacuating this hellhole
until most traffic comes to a standstill for a fatal
accident
recently deceased motorists are swept away without ceremony
meanwhile some impatient drivers unwilling to wait for the
broom
careen recklessly through shattered glass and twisted metal
undeterred pursuit of spiritual renewal among the holy trees
along the sacred lake straddling jet skis and dirt bikes
the S-shaped vein on my temple takes four or five turns
until it dives deeper
a river that goosenecks down from the mountains and onto the
plains
there are no boulders or rocks in this part of the country
because the last glacier ground them all down into grains of sand .