by Richard Hartwell
Sleepily watching, passed and passing,
Riding broken mud flaps’ roostertails,
Drunk-driving U.S. 10l like an asphalt bronc-buster,
And 2 a.m. lies swapped with a cowboy,
Between brown-bagged sips of yesterday.
Alone with last summer’s saddle-tramped truths,
I’ve been drunk-driving highways everywhere,
Drinking forward, dreaming backward,
Drowsing, dropping off, and
Dropped.
Another seven-second ride, ended,
Day before tomorrow.
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