Black Coffee Country

Pencil character sketches drawn on napkins, greasy finger prints on door handles. with the smell of diesel in the vest of the stations attendant, he moves in short quick motions communicating with his hands. while over at pump three the silhouette of a large truck driver clumsily and irreverent slips through the cold night air muttering something about the frieghtline gravel snow packs up north. his mile markered memory worn thin like his wallet he pulls out to pay for the coffee or arsenic, cup o joe, black jonny.... as off in the distance juan valdez slowly moves along the highways shoulder just outside of the lengthy headlights pallid grasp, pale as a ghost.... his mule speaking fluent japanese.