by Elias Bruno
The cold quiet of the desert consumes me.
Morning on the mountains takes my breath away,
Though I’ve seen it so many times before.
The diner down the road,
The only one for miles,
Never closes its door.
From my bedroom at night I see the fluorescent glow of its light drift across the valley
Its neon signs attracting the big trucks and road trains
Like so many insects attracted to light.
It’s a truck stop where I eat my lunch everyday.
I say, “The usual”,
And they know just what I mean
I like that.
After lunch I meander along the empty highway
Back to my little home in the desert,
My belly full with burger and fries.
A chocolate shake, just how I like it.
I brush the flies away from my face and look towards a car in the distance
It’s broken down by the side of the road.
Crossing myself .
I see death.
The hitcher has returned.