Wyoming

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In western Wyoming,
somewhere along Route 80,
there's a lone truck stop to
alert those who fly by that the
exit there leads to a lone town
off to one side.

I stand there now,
pinned in by storms on three fronts,
watching those mad raging pools
running down behind lightening clouds.

Off the road -
over by the barbwire -
there's a spot of grass I'm eyeing.
Should those colors run off without me
I suppose it's there I'll lie
to sleep, perchance to stay dry.

But it's a long six hours awake
in the back of a tar truck for me,
with the two hispanics in the cab
driving the rain down the tarp
to pool upon me through the night.

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3 Comments
jthserrajthserraabout 20 years ago
Excellent poem...

I tripped up a little on line four, otherwise, the words flowed so naturally. Wonderful images...

jim :)

Maria2394Maria2394about 20 years ago
oh yeah

excellent, you-took-me-there, with feeling, enjoyed :)

perksperksabout 20 years ago
one of my favorites

good, wet, imagery.

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