Warm desert winds coarse wildly

through open car windows on a highway

past abandoned gas stations and

dirt roads leading to somewhere.

The driver owns one sweat stained shirt

absent of buttons and ripped jeans.

He carries a history of miles.  Never reads

road signs, just turns when he wants, passing

towns he may have passed before.  The

radio owns the air, polluting the roadside as

he speeds by singing without concern.


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