Tired pavement acts as memory
Please do remember
when driving a two lane back road
some mostly abandoned state route
numbered and forgotten in a world bound
by global positioning satellites and interstates
that gobble up tires and hide topography
behind walls of quick-growing softwood trees
or sound-proofing walls
or scraped mountains sides
that it will always be a falling rock zone
whenever it rains. The tired pavement
is a memory of wider gravel lanes
and dirt roads that cost farmers money when the mud
made it impossible for horses to pull crops in
for Wednesday market. Those double yellow lines
are faded but still resisting the earth
waiting underneath for a single sign of negligence
to begin the reclamation process. The near obliterated
white edge lines are supplemented
by burned off rubber tread beside deer and skunk carcasses
that will be disposed of in the spring. And when the rain
makes the wild grass too tall it will be mowed down
by that one old man who still sees
keeping the roads clear for farmers
who are not there to use the them
as a part of country life: the one
old man who knows when a corn field
starts sprouting industrial sites
the condition of the roads is really
the least of our problems but that it is
all there is left to do.
photo by Frogg Corpse
Mick Parsons is the author and publisher of the poetry collection, The Call Sign is Jonah (2026). His work has also been published in Rusty Truck, Pioneertown, Rust Belt Review, Smokelong Quarterly, Spread: The Monthly Journal of Poetry, and Ohio: The Body Politic – Anthology of the River Roots Poets, Spread: The Monthly Journal of Poetry, SmokeLong Quarterly, Impspired, Moon City Review, Cajun Mutt, and others. Over the years, he’s collected a variety of odd jobs and two almost careers.. He has made his home Louisville, Kentucky with his wife Amanda, two dogs, and ungrateful cat.
