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