Friday, March 4, 2022

RANDOM COMMUTE NOTES


Stuck behind in traffic—
Timid two-footed driver in a new SUV.
Think I’ll take the long way home.

Children of migrant workers,
newly landed, in federal housing,
pregnant mothers in used SUVs
dropping off rafts of children,
who have no basic language skills
in Spanish or in English
or in any language,
except that of the heart.
I fear for their future.
Their dreams are small.

Why is it people driving expensive cars
assume that you will just make room for them
as they merge into you, defying physics?
Every one of them, BMWs doing 60 in a 40 mph zone.
How did they become so privileged
to endanger the lives of road workers?
Those who have so much care for so little.
Teslas, BMWs, VW and Cadillac SUVs.
Social equivalent of invading tank army on the road.

These days, everyone has an SUV.
Those of us in small, economical cars,
are routinely shoved off the road, run aground
and into the guard rails by drivers who can’t see us.
We are the new invisible people.

I pass a huge truck with the words Pegasus
emblazoned on the back, no wings on the swan.
Another flatbed truck filled with massive bags of dirt,
as if giants had gone shopping at Costco.

There are days I leave my iPad notes running,
to take notes as I drive down the road.
Am I taking dictation from the gods of the automobile industry? 
BMWs doing 85  in a 40 mph zone. Privilege at its worst.
And we wonder how we got here.

Along frontage roads, the disenfranchised
park their dilapidated motorhomes.
No rest anywhere for the poor.
In Berkeley, the freeway overpasses
have become the land of Sharia law 
for those who are displaced.
The rubble reaches mountain high,
no place to put the garbage.
So much garbage that even a dumpster
would be overwhelmed in no time flat.
The detritus of civilization survives us
as the homeless move onto yet another encampment.

And there’s that same lone fuckwad Tesla driver
in the commute lane meant for carpools.
Every single driver abusing the law, 
and every car is a BMW or a Tesla.
Can you spell white male privilege in action?

At the Golden Gate Fields on-ramp
I watch jockeys breezing their thoroughbreds,
sometimes two at a time, one being ponied,
others galloping against the direction of the track. 
They are glad to feel the morning breeze.

Even the trucks have joined in the supersize me
automobile race. Everyone with their double cabs
and double-wide wheels commuting to work.
It’s not like they need all that horsepower
in order to drive down the freeway.
We snivel about the price of gas
yet continue to drive our gas hogs. Lemmings.

My new favorite commute word
seems to be asshole asshole asshole.
I drive across three counties in order to teach children
poetry during this time of Covid.
Trying to find balance when the scales themselves
have been thrown out.
Trying to find balance during a time of pandemic
is difficult because the scales themselves have been discarded. 

Sometimes I drop off food at the Berkeley encampments,
knowing that many have no source of food.
The supreme irony, parked at a homeless camp,
SUVs and massive pickup trucks with double cabs.
Homelessness is a virus spreading throughout our cities.
Berkeley is particularly hard hit. Councilmembers talk
about what to do, while doing nothing at all.

People stake out postage-stamp yards 
in their homeless encampment using police tape. 
One encampment has a rickshaw replete with buggy. 
Another encampment builds walls of made of tarps.
Some semblance of the old life persists like memory
in this dystopian Mad-Max world.

Meanwhile, at yet another construction site,
high-rises for the high pollutants
while the homeless continue to sleep 
under the overpasses.

3/4/22

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