Its on the
edge of the desert
an open door welcomes
the thirsty
and the curious
ashtrays full of
last nights words
and crushed hearts
where leather jackets
and quarters keep
the juke box breathing
passing freight trains
push a melody
to someplace
where truckers kill time
until the coffee
turns cold
songs on the road
top down
next town signs
shot to death
where lizards and snakes
crawl the night dance
Roger Singer 