Full Moon Shrine (revised)

In the 1970s I was always driving a VW Bug in need of work.

One time on Route 66 in the dead of night somewhere in New Mexico

I looked in the rear-view mirror expecting the lights of a semi,

Instead, a bright glow filled that tiny piece of glass.

Pulled to the side of the road, got out, knelt in the dirt

And wrapped myself in the natural awe of a full moon on the horizon.

Seemed like it was a wondrous time to pray,

But to whom and for what?

Just thanks, I guess, for letting the moon sneak up on me

During my hour of being lost.

This glorious orb hung over the highway

Barely leaving room for an oncoming truck

Barreling down on me.

Stayed kneeling until the trucker, laughing in the ghoulish cab light,

Pulled his air horn

And I reeled under the massive displacement of air.

It was here that I built a shrine of rocks and tumbleweed

To commemorate this great moment in America.

            –September 1971

(Yesterday I posted a version of this poem taken from memory. But this version places more emphasis on the semi and its driver.)

One response to “Full Moon Shrine (revised)”

  1. Yep, I’d much rather have a glorious full moon take me out, than a semi.

    Liked by 1 person

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