Dear @d-pend sir! 
Another beautiful poem of creative mind. It is your passion that you composed poem during your  long drive. 
Regards

Greetings, @d-pend

Trains have always fascinated me. The simplicity of the concept, the rails, the machine, the power and the efficiency. We don’t have a train system in Venezuela; at least not like the modern commercial ones around the world. Thus, for us trains are a rarity and a marvel of human invention.  When I lived in Normal, Illinois, I remember watching with fascination at the Amtrax train pass (whenever I got stopped at an intersection). I also remember watching the series Into the West back in 2005, which dramatically depicts the monumental project of the transcontinental railroad with all the drama surrounding the plundering of Indian land, the exploitation of workers, especially the Chinese, and the throat cutting competition among incipient corporations, and thinking what an amazing accomplishment and what an incredible cultural cost.

The promise of modernity has always been a problematic one, usually unfulfilled. The feat of the railroad was probably matched by that of the interstates project in the 50s, which dramatically changed the face of America. Like the dendrites of nerve cells, these new marvels of technological innovation became trees of interconnections that shortened distances even more and provided an alleged sense of freedom for those who felt that the American dream was at the tip of their fingers and toes.

This poem, like so many others, play with tensions and double entendres.

Inner vs. outer, static vs. ecstatic, interstate vs. inner state, beginnings and ends (which can be finality or purpose).

The beauty of the “Fluorescent delimiters” is marred by its own ambiguity. The road promises freedom, but it is at the same time a restrictive path that connects and divides, that highlights the death of cultures and customs that gave their lives so that the roads could grow, expand, and welcome “rapacious” progress and mobility.

> Velocity stretches credulity
while change holds me still.

We live in a fast-paced world and the fastest things happen the easier they become credible. There’s no time for interrogation, for introspection, for corroboration. The mirage produced by lights in movement reflects other mirages produced by alleged progress. Change can be a paralyzing force; from the simple change of light on the road that forces you to stop to more transcendental changes that restrict movement or expansion.  

We have gone from messages delivered by the Pony Express to the “dim dit-dahs” of Morse code, to the instantaneous video calls. Nothing seems long-lasting anymore, not even our own inner states.

>Tarry not,
accentuator of dying mores.

Your vocabulary construction and sophisticated use of it takes my breath away, besides this is the longest piece you've written on steemit, wow this one is sweet

Hi,

Looks like you woke up refreshed. 

The highway of the mind is a cursed illusion filled with potholes and snares. My kids beg to watch Marvel movies... I'm so sick of it. I sent him to the library to read "They Lord of the Rings". Kodachrome to you ^-^

> When I think back 
On all the crap I learned in high school
It's a wonder 
I can think at all
And though my lack of education
Hasn't hurt me none
I can read the writing on the wall

Thank you for being here for me, so I can be here for you.
Enjoy your day and stay creative!
Botty loves you. <3

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Great pairing of photos this week for your highway inspired poetry

![NervousFabulousHadrosaurus-small.gif](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmUJN54uHkXLd5LVogYRFe6u5ndRhng9CXY3UvzfzFM7Un/NervousFabulousHadrosaurus-small.gif)