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Sport 31: Spring 2003
Drifter
Drifter
for Anthony Hopkins
Between movies—a closed set, claustrophobic—
there's that looking up, long
intake of breath. It's
the open roads of America callings Does
the heart leap ahead? You bet. Beyond
the roles you invent or a stale sense of self
there's the scent of the desert after rain,
that glow behind Sunset Ridge. Perhaps
the ancestors ache to join in? those
tough Welsh miners in their coffined pits
sensing—through you—some hobo itch
that's more than another rush to the pub
or hunched Sunday stroll
through terraced streets. In
your favourite diner on Route 66
another grease-stained Rothko print
is pretending to be the sky. How
many more are stacked out there? Who's
shuffling that huge beyond? Load
up the Lexus, throw scripts to the wind,
you know that the unknown is always waiting
over the hill or round the next bend.