The Drive to Champaign

This land is too flat and green. I've dreamt of escaping in a small vehicle for ages. People from Georgia will pass by and honk from a raggedy pick-up. I'm going to pull over just to sit because it's just that sunny or it's just that stormy. It bothers me not, that my journey could end in fire.

An odd tree is giving passengers the middle finger. Some Kerouac passed by in a brand-new old Jaguar. And soybeans are roasting beneath the sun. Horses hang in trailers staring glumly at yellow barrels. If no one has to use the restroom, I suggest we roll down the windows and listen to the wind. Don't it sound like Neil Diamond's Greatest Hits?

Old farm houses made three years ago, just 3, host malignant barn birds on window sills. A semi-wants to use that land for an I-Hop: Dinners/Break-my-fasts. Refused to stop for Cracker Barrel. U-Hauled or Hailed us all this way--- a torn rubber tire on the side can manage the rest. Stops are on high alert. I want to see what's in those woods.

A tub is dragged to the next town and under an overpass scrawled with "Peace." I'm getting trucker arm on my left ear. A lone Pentecostal building stands on a hill and Wal-Mart leers lasciviously at it. They're really pals on prairie grass. Toking together thoughtfully. Power lines and Cellphone towers . . . there's no joke lined up.

I've thrown my book aside for the road. Williams passed by in a sports sedan browsing Paterson, like he's never read it before. Dust flies everywhere but the dusty road and begs for a new set of tires to tread it. I didn't put on any deodorant. I will indulge at the lodge with free shampoos. I can take whatever the fuck I want. Don't you see? Fill up on petrol and dreams. Get nasty, get greedy.

Time runs, crawls, and it creeps. It doesn't fly. Where'd you get that idea? I found a piece of driftwood in the meadow. No whales are out this way. The kids are full, imagining active clouds on a static horizon. The mile marks are not consistent and the motorcycle brigade is tough as nails. Keep on turning that radio dial, the frequency is jaded.