The Old Hammond Highway

The interstate, elevated through swamp

for 23 miles, parallels its predecessor,

the Old Hammond Highway, finessing

the way between lakes and swamp,

fishing camps and gas flaring. We drive

across the flatness above the water, the sky

overwhelming like an old Dutch landscape.

Then I see the old car, a light blue

’54 Chevrolet, white-topped, speeding

along the old highway below, and the boy,

perhaps five or six, coat and bow tie,

the boy, buzz-topped, peering

from the back-seat window, until he looks up

and sees me. He waves, and keeps waving,

until the Chevrolet disappears behind trees,

I see him only once more, as the car rises above

the road onto the bridge over the channel, then

descending once again into the trees. I still see

the waving hand, the smile, the buzz-topped

blond hair, the window slightly lowered,

allowing the air past and present to cool

the interior.

Photograph by Alex Grichenko via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.