Glass: A Journal of Poetry Volume One Issue Two
Janice D. Rubin
Driving Interstate 5
from Eugene to Portland
I pass Albany
pulp and paper
boxcars, filled with sawdust.
"The Lucky Eagles"
mile posts that fly by like a bullet train
shout out the distance to go,
motels with a view of the beach.
Green state highway signs announce
the radio station for a weather report
While traveling in France
I went to see
One Flew Over the Cuckoo Cuckoo's Nest
filmed in Oregon
during the credits
a flash of Interstate 5 rolled by.
Homesick for the winding black ribbon
that runs up and down the valley
rock quarries, horses
lying down to rest
in the fields along the highway
rain drenched Sundays.
I took out my wallet
and held my return ticket
between my palms.