Wednesday, April 8, 2020

John Grey writes

I'm on a flat,
endless Nebraska road
at sundown.
I pass silos,
cruise through names on a map
that are no place in reality.
Beside me, run parallel
flat, endless Nebraska train tracks.
I've been driving all day
and am on the lookout
for a motel
and a restaurant.
I'm beginning to regret my decision
to cross the country by car.
I find a cheap place
to rest my body.
The bed's comfy enough.
And then another place,
equally cheap,
to fill my stomach.
I keep one eye
on the ones who live here permanently
the motel clerk,
the waitress,
the other diners.
They remind me of silos,
names on a map
that are no place in reality
and railways lines.
I spend the night
eating and sleeping
like I'm still at the wheel.

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