King Crimson -- Exiles

So, it's a nice day. I worked, of all things, doing important stuff I haven't been able to focus on recently, and caught up on my This American Life listening.

Every time I drive to my g/f's house I drive by the ocean, and there's a particular mood that I often get into. This poem is one attempt to try and capture it....

McClure Tunnel

When PCH becomes the 10
the road curves away from the ocean
from South to East.
It’s like going from your bicep to your forearm
and the McClure tunnel is where your elbow is.
Some people honk in the tunnel
but I generally pray
for good traffic on the freeway ahead.

And somedays I get it. Just the other day
I was blessed. I did 80 the whole way.
The other drivers and I
filled with gratitude
grinned at each other
basking in the goodness
God had bestowed on us.
It was grace. We knew we deserved gridlock
but God gave us mostly empty lanes.

Today we got what we deserved.
We slouched down in our seats
feeling God’s condemnation in each stalled car
and accident blocking our way.

But it’s OK. We’ll do better, be nicer, work harder.
We’ll redeem ourselves, return to God.
And when I go home, it’s like a sign of good things
as I move from westbound 10 though the tunnel
to northbound PCH with the ocean sparkling
to the left with joggers and skaters on the boardwalk
and surfers in the water and it’s all golden.