The Garden: State of Limited Access
Once upon a time, yesterday maybe, having taken that journey on “tomorrow’s highway today.” Entry ramp. A means of departure. Tollbooths. Tractor trailers. State troopers. Riled motorists. Jet planes flying low over phragmites. Haste making more, then not. Some coming from somewhere. Others going elsewhere. Fuming tumuli of superannuated waste. A wrong exit. Long abandoned road. Halts near day’s end, an emblem. All in this made together. Truth be told, or daring. A phone booth. To know where one remains.
