A Rare Post in Praise of I-81

The way the interstate breaks in Wytheville, Virginia is going to break my heart

What does it matter if I go
pirouetting off the highway bridge
when the air is thin
and perforated
and full of unanswered hankerings?

Then, as now,
I dislike loud noises.
And curl willfully into myself
at the slightest tensions
of hope,

answer softly
the hushed resonances of wind
by tending to prefer jars of bolts,
drawers full of useless keys;
the light passing through car windows.

I have asked God for forgiveness
in many ways.