I sit and watch the oaks pass quickly.

Hurried squirrels hasten up a trunk

that blinks with flickering insect eyes.

My sister enjoys her movie that flashes

on the screen of my mother’s seat.

Father designates his eyes to the journey ahead.

 

Our monotone GPS repeats, “Turn left ahead.”

for the millionth time. The wheels quickly

screech to the left as I clutch the worn seat

to brace myself. I hear the contents of the trunk

bounce and roll as their void life flashes  

before their inanimate, non living eyes.

 

I look forward at the road and catch the eyes

of my father glancing at me as I look ahead.

In the distance, thunder roars and lightning flashes,

and the sky turns to shades of gray and blue quickly.

To our amazement, the vicious clouds form a trunk

while my trembling sister hides behind the seat.

 

The storm throws a cow and makes it take a seat

in the field opposite its home. My terrified eyes

dart to the right where a firmly planted tree trunk

is ripped from its solid roots and thrown ahead

into the littered road that ever so quickly

appears amongst the transformer flashes.

 

We roll into the destroyed town of neon flashes

and damp, abandoned movie theater seats

that litter the streets. Rather slowly than quickly,

residents of the ruined town focus their eyes

on what used to be and what lies ahead.

My father departs our car and opens the trunk

 

to selflessly offer our goods for their trunks

that still remain. People cry as they recall flashes  

of their lives during the storm. Up ahead,

people achingly begin to take temporary seats

on curbs, streets, and ruins and fix their eyes

on what disappeared ever so quickly.

 

I look ahead and think of how quickly

life is taken. Theater seats and family trunks,

flashes and somber eyes litter what used to be.