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Shotgun Slumber MAG
My face is smushed against the glass –
cheekbone and jawline numb from
the cold, and long hours spent pressed
against the window. Rhythmic breaths
create patches of fog along the contours of my nose and lips.
Out of the corner of my right eye
I catch glimpses of the landscape we
pass by, but I’ve seen it all before.
Concrete barriers and painted lines
keep my driver on course.
Beyond the asphalt and wildflower medians
sprawl cornfields, suburban neighborhoods,
vast parks. Perpetual movement fools me
and for a moment, I am stationary –
free to view the passing still frames
of others’ lives.
Another mile marker and tired eyes flutter –
the endless strings of telephone lines,
cow pastures and landfills blur together
as the lullaby resonating from the spinning
axles beneath my feet sings me to sleep again.
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