On the highway
where the steel guitar calls
from diners
Weather beaten clapboard
lost in pale grey’s landscape
Those lonely oases
where Hank Sr. and Merle Haggard
serenade biscuits and gravy
Greybeards gather
over black coffee and bacon
Shadows raised from gospel choirs
Up before dawn still
with no place to go
Finding consensus on the merits
of Ford Motor Company
Small bills and loose coins
obligatory flirtation
left for Alice
These knights of denim depart
to sail upon their heavy chassis
through seas of windswept white
dotted with stubble
Like this gulf they inhabit
Islands of humanity
between our coasts
We are tired
We are weary
Let us die off in peace