"Park Blvd."

Resplendently devoid of any chain store or restaurant,
   the upper side of Park Blvd.
   boasts not one but five churches,
Ensuring its outlier status,
   clinging to the sanctity of small and family-run shops.

This beloved boulevard emerges from a sweet, tree-lined freeway
   and exhales downward through a long and windy path.
Gravity releasing you into its view of
   pretty homes
   pine trees
   The Bay,
   and promises to "Optimize Your Health!",
As you drive into the world of parking meters and
   smartphone devotees.

While stopped in front of the last (and most progressive) church
on Park Blvd.,
   I notice two chic sedans,
   waiting patiently at a light —
      side-by-side, silent in their electric idle,
      pristine and nearly showroom-worthy.

Then, two large hounds
   big enough to ward off most prowlers
   reveal themselves behind their owners' backs.    
One in each car, 
   One, black with white markings,
   The other, white with black markings.
They are as silent as the cars that move them, yet
   completely locked into each other's gaze,
   communicating what appears to be a lifetime of living
   into mere seconds.

Like the dogs, I feel my breath slow to a crawl . . .
   Linear Time dissolving and
   Spiritual Time blossoming.

Then, in a flash, the light changes,
   and each dog exchanges wild barking
   loud enough to wake the dead!
As if confessing their secret desire to
   poison their owner.
Or apologize for some mishap decades ago,
Or desperately trying to coordinate a meeting
   in their next incarnation.

Moments later,
   I glide onto my freeway onramp,
   wondering which movie set I’ve stumbled into . . . 

 

 

April  2024

 

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©2024, Michael Smolens