Dust rose in menacing circles
behind the car; generations of travel
brushed to the roadside. Truck lights
create lonely shadows. Bleary eyes
crave coffee; the liquid toothpicks
of temporary vision. Hitchhikers
seek the ride of hope, their boots worn
down to sandals as they desire other places.
Forgiveness is far from home. Familiar
voices are lost to the sound of traffic.
Past promises become stories when food
is short and hunger long. All the miles
look the same.
Roger Singer 