T.C. Carter

TWO LANE BLACKTOP

The two lane blacktop
sliced through the countryside
with little regard for anything
except destination,
topography
and the interests of those in power

It cut farms in two,
moved houses and barns aside
or destroyed them,
felled trees,
both young and old,
and disturbed wildlife
in ways unconsidered

The two lane blacktop
roared by ancient shacks
returning to the earth,
but still occupied
by poor people, black and white,
who lived trapped
and needy lives

It hurried past the milky mansions
in the distance
where opulent land owners
surveyed the abundance
that was theirs

The two lane blacktop
zipped by the share cropper house
we occupied,
a newer copy of an old design;
four rooms and an outhouse,
but with a hand pump water well
at the back door,
and the added luxury
of electricity in the house

But the two lane blacktop
went somewhere
beyond these tobacco fields,
summer gardens, hog pens
and chickens scratching around
in the dirt,
beyond hard days under a hot sun
and cold days warmed
by a wood burning pot belly stove,
beyond two-room country schools,
went beyond little roadside grocery stores
with Sunbeam bread screen doors
and two gas pumps out front,
beyond vultures
feasting on road kill
and refusing to give way
to a small boy walking
a mile to the store
to get beans and salt for his mama

Oh, yes, the two lane blacktop
went somewhere beyond;
went to places only known about
in dreams,
only dreamed about because
of picture books and teachers
who traveled far away
down the two lane blacktop
and came back
to give the world
 to children
hungry
for tomorrow

T.C. Carter is a mostly self-educated cowboy poet who crosses over into other subjects and styles as they occur to him.