Outside the cab colors swirled,
like a miasmic kaleidoscope,
obscuring the street. The whorl
eventually dissipated. A sign. “Abandon all hope,
you poor pathetic bastards.” A guard
nodded to Catullus, unhooked a rope,
and we drove on past, through a junkyard
of cars stuck in an epic traffic jam.
“We call this Limbo Boulevard,”
Catullus said. “Hollow men and women stranded;
You know the Eliot poem. These nobodies
In life never took a stand, didn’t
vote, etc., Not bone fide sleazes,
per se, so this is their punishment.
“Can they one day cop a plea?”
I asked. “Make atonement?”
“Naw, but this ain’t nothing,
not having no movement.
“What you bout to see on the other side will wring
your heart, if you think this here is hell.
Like, I said, tain’t nothing.”
Looking in the cars it was hard to tell
any of the passengers apart. We drove past,
swerved left, through a dell
towards the car ferry, the last
stop in Limbo. We took our place in the line
of cars. Across the river lightening flashed.
You can read/listen to “Canto 1” here.