I do not cut myself
but those benign cars
a few fall off the road
and hit me instead
I'm a tree on a highway
I do not hit back.
Of those who fell off the road
curse and swear at length.
Maybe the road was not well made.
I'm a tree on a highway
I do not speak back,
but absorb all the gall
and wilt a little each day,
with dirt sprayed over my wounds.
I'm a tree on a highway
I'm a bit tough to pull down.
There are dents in my trunk
but I still stand strong,
in a cruel crooked fashion.
I'm a tree on a highway
watching over, lonely carriers
and merry wholesale buyers,
over bulky trucks, spilling bucks
and teasing the line of death and life
I'm only a tree on a highway
leaning on my neighbors
peacefully stoic to revving engines.
for I've seen rougher roads
which only got wider.
