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.