I wonder why our paths crossed so unusually,
at Weed truck stop
You and your dog--queens of the road
Yet, you do not know why you go
And when will you stop running away?
Away from your past, even your future--
you live in the now
the back of a truck,
rushing along the rails between steel walls at distance speeds,
the dewy wet fields of green your made-up bed.
I hope, one day, you will find what you're looking for.
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1 comment:
Those are some really cool reflections of what you saw in her. Thanks for sharing your poetry! May she indeed one day find what she is looking for.
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