All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
There are no People in Indiana
There are no people in Indiana.
But there are roads. Long,
Straight stretches of pavement reaching
Out to the East and West with cold,
stoney fingers. Beside them lay fields of muted and
Desolate green dotted with fences and the
occasional tree.
There are no people in Indiana.
But there are buildings. The kind
That look as if they were abandoned years and years ago,
Set far back from the roads, but still visible across the fields
That lay before them. Most are old farmhouses with
Rickety old porches and ghostly windows.
Some silos stand like steadfast guard dogs beside the houses,
While others crumble beside barns.
There are no people in Indiana.
But there are animals. Cows stand
Or lay out in fenced fields a small, but noticeable
Contrast to the otherwise stale landscape,
each one unaware of their own ephemeral existence.
The sheep stand alone or in small cliques, dim skies
Dulling their disheveled wool.
Crows below ear-splitting calls from the tops of telephone
Wires or road signs. They call to their brothers and sisters
That fly overhead, thick clouds of evermoving darkness.
There are no people in Indiana.
But there are billboards. Cheesey,
Overtly Christian ones beckoning the “lost” truckers
To seek God.
Call 855 For Truth. If You Died Today, Heaven or Hell?
What Would Jesus Do?
The once stark white or vibrant polychromatic boards meant
To halt the driver’s mind now fade into the rest of the
background scene, bold admonitions that
Call to arms an invisible audience.
There are no people in Indiana.
But there are license plates. We collect them
As they race by:
Our third Ohio of the day, Indiana, Indiana, Arkansas, North Dakota.
They are wayward travelers going forth on their journeys
As we go on ours.
The cars all blend together after the first few hours, melting
Into a predictable mix of dark-colored mid-sized sedans.
Their wheels spin in an endless cycle, on their way to
ever closer destinations.
There are no people in Indiana.
But there is my family. In our car, we sit,
Waiting patiently while we move ever so slowly
Towards our destination.
Each of us stares out the window to the dismal scene
Before us, and just five or six hours outside St. Louis,
We realize; there are no people in Indiana. There may be cows,
And crows, buildings, and roads, billboards and license plates,
But there are no people in Indiana…..
At least not on the I-70 highway.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
This poem was written after a recent road trip that I took through Indiana. I was inspired by the boring sights and imagery along the highway to write this poem. The moral of it is that you shouldn't judge a whole place (or person) by what you see in a first impression because it may only be a small portion of the whole picture, like how I judged Indiana by it's highway.