peterography

From early April . . . .

Bruce Springsteen said,
The poets down here
Don’t write nothing at all,
they just stand back and let it all be

Some things do defy language.

This morning, west of Boston on Interstate 495, a truck lost its load of red dye. For a half a mile the highway was bright red.

Here’s a photo from the local newspaper

I work for a huge international corporation and the workers come from all directions and several states, but in the parking lot today it was clear which cars had driven on Route 495 because their tires and fenders and doors were coated red. All day long they sat in the parking lot, crimson curiosities, while the sky overhead grew darker and the wind began to freshen. When it started to snow we all remarked how suddenly winter had returned on an April day. The grounds and walkways and pavement grew white. And the cars began to bleed. The snow washed the red off the fenders and wheels and it flowed across the parking lot in great scarlet stains.

Here’s a photo I took with my cellphone

And when everyone went home at the end of the day, the parking lot resembled a silent, snowy plain where a terrible battle had been fought.