dead lizard on the
tumultuous road i croak
under the machine

The highway changes when you travel it
At different times,
In different seasons,
Weathers, road conditions, or decades.
The places you pass and your final destination
Will change entirely from year to year
Or day to night.
The highway will tell you totally different things,
The signs change from year to year
And day to night.

The sky goes dark, the lights come on,
Some letters are lost, and new meaning found.
A roadside motel becomes simply a mote,
There is vacancy where before
There was nothing at all,
Just an abandoned fruit stand, which by twilight
Becomes a small house—
The siding might be yellow or brown—
With dark curtains and neon signs
Proffering readings, psychic insights, an open palm.

The other night, I came to the end of the highway.
I would have crashed right through the barrier
But God or my survival instinct intervened,
And my journey continued
On a different highway altogether.

"I feel nothing"
she said
as she lied down
on the cold empty road
not knowing which direction to go

"what's it like"
I asked her
over the phone
while stuck in traffic
just trying to get to work

"A Country Sunset"

Dogs bound along the road.
Hogs squeal their hunger. A toad
Flees to safety from tabby's chase.
Trees sway in the wind. Sol's face
Slowly hides behind the corn
Sleepily, till dawn reborn.

Happiness cannot be boughten, nor sadness be quenched in a day
Life is an ancient road, eternally beaten and trodden to stay

As you wander down this road
That we call life,
Nothing will come easy
Except the bad times

Sun comes up,
she goes down
on some upended main drag,
if i were an archaeologist
i still wouldn't dig this place,
every other day she dwells
in tedious, empty cafés,
but on the weekends she flashes
her "license and registration"
to oncoming traffic,
hoping for grifted furlough
to wear as silken, shiny beads,
and so we ride
this merry-go-round,
because moving in circles
is far better than being trapped in a square,
we've stopped climbing the calendar
in search of higher elevation,
she used to pour it on thick,
stirring drinks inside my head,
i used to shake
worries from her hair,
now with bitter orange marmalade
low in the sky, and stacked against us,
it's home before dark,
lest our eyes open wide to see
we are nothing more
but strangers at sundown.