in the space between working and not i lose myself essing and squiggling day and late on eighty-eight–
a kind of asphalt umbilical cord, connecting dawn and sunset— wending way again today hauling my self-same freight
bobbing and bouncing down eighty-eight: always-adventuresome deer nervously anticipating leaping flight
herding near the berm,
often—scavenger crows picking splattered carcasses–
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vistas appear— erased and rephrased— as sunlight fragment-dances through trees not unleafed, but not yet shade as day breaks and brakes dare— another curvy-swerve
awakening nerve
from trance of sleepy routine the esses and the cees of reversing parentheses spell out the guardrail’s frowns and smiles of huge metal teeth;
splintered sunshine slips
behind barbed-wire sanctuaries
where unconcerned cows
casually chew cud and eye in stupid-stare those who dare traverse the asphalt-ribbon, the bovines, themselves unconcerned about
radioed words
regarding time and weather and whether the jolting bump into liquid-filled potholes prompts the birth of a new day—
or just the slower death
of my ever-balding radials!
