Back Roads VII: Lafayette - Dustin Vado
It's the long street that sheds names every mile
dividing work and home with suburban
cracks in the pavement that lost the oranges
and prunes in dreams of electric sheep.
Lafayette, the main vein of Silicon Valley
from Bascom to Washington
and terminating in Gold, the toxic pond
opening paradise to seabirds.
It reeks of beer and sex near San Carlos, smells
like roses near Naglee, and gas near Memorex
where clocking out never comes without the
daily dose of cancer and birth defects.
Preference over highways where the traffic
and hate boil over like coffee from Turkish copper;
the potholes jerk swerves of jerk into jerk
in a daily test of will over nature.
Coming, the murals are lit and hopeful,
and going, the bars leak escapist fumes
of maraschino nightmares spoiling the bloom
of genius planted at the University.
Schools passing schools, work and death drive
together, but the kids look happy - youth jogging
into the mouth of a quicksand future where
only abandon can loosen its grasp.
From Ohlone to Spanish, Portuguese, and Italians to
Indians, Chinese and androids wrapped in bytes of gray,
cold songs in orchards of silicon
trace the Valley of Heart's Delight.
Someday,
drivers won’t have to break eyes from their screens
while they cruise this American Dream,
blurring the split between now and then.