In the middle of nowhere
On the new national highway
Transfixed I stood
With a broken down car
An April sun fumed above
I had just passed a board
Which named the place White Rock
There wasn’t anything white around
Just a small village of scattered huts
Looming black granite hills
Surrounded by desultory woods
Perhaps a pearly rock hill white
Had stood there before
An extreme singularity
And unwillingly given way
To the tapering highway
A geological marvel
A prehistoric volcanic spit
Or a meteor that landed with a fiery thud
No one knows
And in moonlit nights
It might have resembled from above
A domed UFO hidden in the woods
Lovers of the village had sat on it
Shared their sweet aches in tight embrace
Or in the morning sun
Cobras had mated at its foot
Their moist mouths in rainbow hue
Hooded bodies coiled like vine
In sublime dance of ecstasy
It has vanished without a trace
A keyhole to prehistoric past
The Sun sprang illusory pools
On the unending asphalt tape
That fumed and ran further down
Into an unknown future
Christened a nation’s dream
Sans any link to the past
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