Red dirt hill along the highway
Tired tracks of falling rocks
Is that a raccoon in road
Or just an old glove?
Sausage in the glove box
Turtle on a sweatshirt
We are now entering the fog zone
Trees line the mountain side
Like scattered hairs along an enormous ear
Over sharing Cracker Barrel waitres
Everybody’s tired
Sometimes it feels like
Success would just destroy us
Standing on trial at the food court
Fried green tomato potato chips
Stevie Knicks on the camp fire
I still recall that phone message
From my sister “I, I love her. I love her. I love her. I love her. I love her so much.”
Schwervon! 