the road is laid out before me
flat desolate cold
a lone painted horse in a field
doesn’t seem to be lonely
the glinting sun parallels me on the railway
the faster I go, the faster it speeds up
in a race to the finish line
the heifer cows...actually running, galloping
the cold air making swift and quick foggy breath
at each cow’s nostril
I look ahead and see an old beat up truck at the gate
food is worth the exercise
the fancy radio provides no entertainment
despite it’s 300 channels
I briefly consider a haggard hitchhiker
and wonder what sort of doom would befall me
for actually picking one up
I’ve seen too many Stephen King movies
and I’ve read too many Dean Koontz books
450 miles of nothing
family on one end
and me on the other
as far apart as I can make it
