by Lane Adamson

If I wrote an epic poem
In a manner now archaic
In tetrameters trochaic
Parody might be suspected
But it isn't:  pay attention

You just might enjoy the story...

On a road trip to Atlantis
Down Metempsychosis Highway
With my friend, the Dalai Lama
And the Burmese cat, Mohandas
In a '64 VW

Motoring the midnight asphalt
In my aging, beat-up Beetle
Windows down to let some air through
In the sharp-drawn Chuck Jones desert
Underneath a gibbous moonrise

Coming from a late-night movie
At the Instant Karma Drive-In
(Eastwood, mentored by Leone
Filmed a new Spaghetti Koan
It's called "Dirty Hare Krishna")

Passing signs along the roadside
Brightly painted Day-Glo billboards
For the Kalevala Gift Shop
It was late, and we were hungry
(Plus, Mohandas had to tinkle)

When we parked, we knew at once that
This was not your normal truck stop
Gifts and liquor, food and diesel
Horoscopes and I-Ching readings
All marked down to bargain prices

Tarot cards, reduced for clearance
Flies in amber, bumper stickers
Postcards - French, and more prosaic
Plastic Jesuses and Marys
All along with gas (self-service)

In the diner, percolating
Coffee smelled like Finnish mornings
Wainamoinen at the griddle
Flipping flapjacks out like Frisbees
Onto astral plates, with syrup

While the Dalai Lama went to
Get his nails done, and his palm read
I sat, cat-side, in the diner
There to share a beer and burger
With Mohandas, people-watching

Looking at the waitress, pouring
Kool-Aid in electric colors
For the riders from the bus stop
On the road to test their mettle
With their faces painted merry

Thumbing through the juke-box play-list
Looking for some Mary Hopkins
Maybe even Ravi Shankar
All they had was Barbra Streisand
So I saved my Franklin quarter

In the next booth was a fellow
Fair of hair, with eyes of lapis
Yellow-gloved, in floral weskit
Reading Irving's "Sketch Book," slowly
Savoring Americana

With a raven, and his -- daughter?
Sat a high-browed gentleman who
Looked quite thin, and most consumptive
Peering 'round in bleak bemusement
Tapping, tapping on his table

Ravens make Mohandas nervous
So I went to fetch the Dalai
Stopping at the gift-shop counter
There to buy some handmade hand-wear
Mittens, with the fur side inside

Then I gassed up the VW
Whilst the Dalai bought a bottle
(Old Crow, just to piss the cat off)
We drove off into the desert
Drinking rich, entropic bourbon

Weaving slightly as I traveled
With the Burmese cat, Mohandas
And my friend, the Dalai Lama
Down Metempsychosis Highway
On a road trip to Atlantis