after 15 miles, turn right and follow– /snapshot from a business trip

i measure time
‘til the satnav falls again
and think about that van Gogh
painting, street café by
night, which makes me
wanna go to Paris & reminds me,
i am not yet there–

i don’t have to drive,
but i’m responsible for navigation,
(always a bad deal–),
streets are beehive busy, dark clouds
in fierce contest with the cement &
my eyes– well i try to keep
them open, “did you know,

white sharks eat their brothers
while still in the uterus, which
means, each shark is a murderer
before birth”

“oh–“, i

swallow & then google it
because i don’t believe, and
while i do, listen to the sound of tires, that
intimately rub their cheeks with
concrete streets, “i think
we have to turn,
then take the other exit–” PhlopP!

the satnav falls again &
as it hits the dashboard,
i jot one more mark onto my list
of things that crash a myriad times
but magically keep on leading you
the correct way

.

yep…it’s OpenLinkNight again at dVerse – and the party starts at 3pm EST…come, write a poem and join us..

Advertisements

64 responses to “after 15 miles, turn right and follow– /snapshot from a business trip

  1. um…interesting on the sharks…but that ties well with a business trip…haha…lots of sharks out there in the business world…and with traffic for sure….would love to be in Paris…or even just get a chance to visit…sweet ending on the things…or people that fall and still lead us in the right direction….

  2. There you are, thinking of a wonderful street scene in Paris, while navigating the treacherous concrete and companion tells the startling stark shark tale–Good Heavens! So grateful to reach the last stanza where one can mark the myriad of falling things that magically steer our course correctly. Loved how you spooled this one out so naturally; I felt as though I was along for the ride, too.

  3. Me, too, Claudia! I was seeing what you see, and feeling also. And thinking.
    Guess sharks are born with full tummy, maybe even bellyache? Wonder how the decision is made–who eats whom?

    Falling stuff–people–can lead us on the right road. Like as in, “God can write a straight line, with a crooked pen”…was a long time before I realized the crooked pen was me. Ha!

    LOVE your work, envy those business trips (sometimes!)

  4. Very nice. Really fun abstract thoughts and images mixed in here, Not sure what Satnav is, but I’m thinking perhaps something like a metronome, will have to look it up though. But the up down, motions of the lines, and that shark one, really sticks out, murderer before birth, so many cool possibilities that one can conjure. Excellent write. Love how your trips always inspire you so.

  5. Oh, I’d love to visit Paris again….clever poem & images…the sharks were great! I’ll have to go look that up 😉 Wonderful writing, as always 🙂

  6. I’m not a great fan of satnav, but I like this poem very much. It has a very sweet feel to it, and I like the double-checking even as you follow and listen. You describe so well the way the mind works. k.

  7. I have a gps that I can attach to my dash too. Really love it most of the time, but right in the middle of some difficult navigation it will crash to the floorboard too. Especially when it is very hot outside or very cold! Lately I’ve not bothered with it, but have used the gps ap on the I-phone. Never crashes to the floorboard, though less easy to see! But yes, I see the symbolism in your poem. Some things do continue to crash as they lead us and somehow we end up where we should be.

  8. Oh, I’ve read some of these GPS things have led people right up the wrong roads and some even led them to drive right into rivers. LOL
    I love the way you take a boring car drive and turn it into poetry. The tires making noise on the roads and such.
    Amazing gift with your imagination and of course, words.

  9. this has wonderful flow to it, like a well-navigated trip – realistic too, the conversation, the satnav falling (& resulting epiphany)… i love
    the sound of tires, that
    intimately rub their cheeks with
    concrete streets

  10. A magical trip indeed! Satnav’s are such a pain–unsticking and tumbling, usually onto my knee or some other unprotected area.
    LOVED “The tires intimately rub their cheeks against concrete” and “one more thing that crash a myriad times, but magically keep on leading you the right way” Absolutely beautiful

  11. You make even confusion poetic, Claudia, and the nugget about the white sharks interjected takes the whole piece to a different place. Excellent stuff.

  12. for years, i had a print of that same van gogh hanging on my wall, until i gave it to my daughter… it’s still one of my favorites of his… that light makes me just want to step into the picture, which i say only because that is also the way your poems make me feel…

  13. Well, I certainly agree with Brian, about the sharks and a business trip. Definitely belongs.. Your trips for pleasure or for business make them so real, Claudia…I’m there with you in the moment. This one, as well. They just seem to flow from you like huge waterfalls of words. Cheers, girl…!

  14. On family trips I am always in charge of navigation – I agree it’s a bad deal – especially when for years I had only maps and no GPS as my guide. This was a great peak into the driving part of a trip, made all the more tangible by the side comment about the sharks. Just the kind of conversation that might occur between co-workers forced to be in a car together for a long drive. Peace, Linda

  15. and think about that van Gogh
    painting, street café by
    night, which makes me
    wanna go to Paris & reminds me
    i am not yet there–…………………..last June I was there yet it seems so long ago and I saw some gorgeous Van Gogh paintings which delighted me. This took me there for a minute and I thank you for that. Love this…interesting about the sharks…I have caught some fishing in the Florida keys and released them back into the ocean. Enjoyed this 🙂

  16. Ohh just the very mention of Paris and I’m right there strolling down the Champs Elysee – I’ll keep my eye out for those sharks tho – love how you share your wonderful trips Claudia – takes me right there everytime – hugs Lib

  17. “streets are beehive busy, dark clouds
    in fierce contest with the cement &
    my eyes–”
    and
    “listen to the sound of tires, that
    intimately rub their cheeks with
    concrete streets,”

    I love how we are still on concrete streets, despite the falling analog and poor visibility and sleepiness and Paris! I looked up satnav–satellite navigation device–for other dinosaurs who would prefer to lose our way; but I may have to get the phone to be able to look up the cannibal sharks and other obstacles who cross in front of me like black cats or country deer.

  18. We have built in GPS in our car, only as good as the programming and since it was installed before 2006 any new neighborhoods and streets don’t show up. (At over $200 for new disc to update, its never quite gotten done.) I’ve always been good with a map though. Navigated us through Dublin to catch the Fast Ferry to Wales on our first trip to Ireland- foreign country, driving on the opposite side from our norm, and still made it! Loved your story Claudia. Have been there with trying to stay awake, when even an odd story can get your attention and keep your mind alert that much longer. Thanks for sharing this!

  19. There MUST be something momentous happening in Paris..it seems to be sneaking into many of our poems today in fact, or sublinially. Enjoyed your trip and the ending (as with every voyage) brought the brilliantly unexpected to such a perfect conclusion!

  20. Thanks for this one Claudia, you had me laughing inside, I SO know that blinking Sat Nav falling off thing! But particularly like this:

    ‘while i do, listen to the sound of tires,that
    intimately rub their cheeks with
    concrete streets’

    Really great write 🙂

  21. Claudia … yes, you have “magically lead me the correct way” and what a way it was … for some reason your shark story reminded me of my mosquito story, about which I penned a haiku. This was a great ride BUT … what is a satnav?

  22. I use GPS , but have been known to turn off quite frequently since I enjoy the scenic routes. I turn it back on as we get closer. I cannot repeat here what we call ours (her) sometimes lol! Thanks for taking us along. Enjoyed your write.

  23. I love this section:

    “&
    my eyes– well i try to keep
    them open, ‘did you know,

    white sharks eat their brothers
    while still in the uterus, which
    means, each shark is a murderer
    before birth/”

  24. Enjoyed that piece as always Claudia, especially the great images in the lines
    “while i do, listen to the sound of tires, that
    intimately rub their cheeks with
    concrete streets,…”

  25. loved reading your words…taking me to another world…

    “white sharks eat their brothers
    while still in the uterus, which
    means, each shark is a murderer
    before birth”….you are amazing…thank you for visiting my humble world…and the warm welcome to dVerse 🙂

  26. Sharks do it while still in the womb! They would be at each other’s throat. That could cause a lot of tummy ache for mummy in the process. Well crafted, Claudia!

    Hank

  27. Isn’t it strange, the things that occur in the midst of our doing the most mundane things…the details here give it an otherworldly atmosphere–the poetic ambience, I guess, that is there no matter where you get your direction. Another interesting and artful work. Nice job.

  28. I love the journey you take us on, Claudia. with your mind eve- presently hopping from the satnav to your thoughts… to the cement, to sharks and google, back to the streets. a fun romp-about poem that makes me want to travel.~jane

  29. i don’t have to drive but i do have to navigate – wow – so true – also wise
    words: some things that crash in front of us lead us onto our path.

  30. At least it’s not “are we there yet?”! 🙂 I love humanity of this, the imPlications of knowing where we are in life, which this poem makes deeper perhaps than seeing a map. Being lost gets dOne on so many levels, like Van Gogh painting a street scene but losing his mental bearings, probably his touch with so-called normal reality. The shark thing is weird too as it pulls us into another world which only science can discover but that too – where does the factoid leave us knowing who or where we are? The ending is simPly superb.

  31. This one hit me in the gut (I had to disect a shark in college with all her babies still inside – so disturbing). I would defend sharks over business people but then I worked in healthcare risk management! Made me want to go to Paris and on a road trip. Wonderful as usual.

  32. You have a wonderful way with metaphor and the visual element is strong and kicking.

    There is a lightness in this that is delightful, and the ending gives out such a ray of hope.

    (I had to look up the word satnav. I thought it a new form of something.

    Lady Nyo

  33. every time i read you, its like im taking a journey to places ive never been, might be a little afraid to go, but cant wait to get there.
    thank you claudia.

  34. I’m late to the party, Claudia, and it’s all been said, but I must express my sincere admiration for this poem,which is so beautifully crafted that it took my breath away – specially the final stanza.

  35. “while i do, listen to the sound of tires, that
    intimately rub their cheeks with
    concrete streets, “i think
    we have to turn,

    then take the other exit–” PhlopP!”

    Hi! Claudia…
    Tks, for the journey…through your very poetic words… after 15 miles, turn right and follow– /snapshot from a business trip

    deedee 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s