exit to exit

I’m caught in the
luscious curves
of Southern California freeways:

First it was the
entrancing twist of the
5, 57, and 91

Now it’s the meandering of the
110 through the hills of
Highland Park and Pasadena

There’s also that tangle
of the 101, 5, 60, and 10
that makes it feel
like a miracle to
get where you’re going
(have you ever looked
at it on a map?)

Everything seems
to be at least twenty minutes
away from everything else
(if there’s no traffic and if
you’re not afraid
of the gas pedal)

There was a time
when I hated the
cross-county
trekking, when I
felt trapped in
traffic

but something
happened

Now it’s a game
figuring out which
surface streets
move fast during
the rush hour crunch,

and there’s a joy to discovering
the paths between
Boyle Heights and Downtown,
Chinatown and Eagle Rock,
Echo Park and Hi-Fi,
mapping the maze of streets

seeing one neighborhood
give way to another,
seeing how they meld
into each other’s borders–

I love the curves of
the freeways for what
they curl around, the
exploration they invite,
the search they incite
to find more than
just what’s there
from exit to exit.