There’s a Town Around Here Somewhere
By William Eichler
US 13 crosses over Dover, Delaware
like a sternum over a heart.
The highway exists so that
the town may be seen, never heard;
never heard over the sound of
a car full of college kids
arguing about where to find food
on their way back to school,
never heard over the sound of mom and dad
picking out a place to stop for the night
once they’ve gotten a few hours up the road,
never heard over the sound of a couple
driving back from the beach,
with a pair of sun-tanned legs up on the dashboard
and a Biggie Smalls song playing.
US 13 runs through Dover, Delaware
the same way every child who grew up here does –
straight through, without looking back,
heading directly to a beach or a city
that can fill actually the space it was given.
The highway exists so that
restaurant chains which
sit so close together that they
have shoved out all the local joints
can convince someone to stay an extra
forty-five minutes for a conversation that is
cheaper than their reheated dinner
that will leave them feeling like
a pessimist’s glass of water.
US 13 passes through Dover, Delaware
like a ghost through a wall, leaving
whoever saw it wondering
if there is anything stopping them
from doing the same.
The highway exists so that
a casino and a race track can share a name
and passersby can think that
there is something to be said about
a pass-through town’s main attractions
being things that are designed so no one can escape.
Further down there’s a mall with a movie theater
with an exit sign that has hanged itself
because everything has to leave here somehow,
and after all that, you can just drive
until you reach somewhere else.