Sunrise on I-90

Heading East, toward fireball clouds,

Dew and darkness lifting behind me,

The Ball rotating beneath me.

 

Asphalt strap, uninterrupted

but for retreads and raccoon parts.

 

Inside my helmet I can smell

Wood smoke and singed synapses.

 

I am hungry, lean, and without sleep.

A dream coyote lopes beside me

 

To the place where you are.

 

 

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