City Limits

the edge of town arrives quickly. You hang an inscrutable left only to discover one beat-up clapperboard hulk hanging over tall corn as if land-wrecked. or you drive to the end of a suburban tract and while waiting for the lights a blue wash of sky paints out the last inflatable swimming pool. The land becomes a swampy hollow prone beside a basking river. Treads gets sticky in pent up pockets of sun. Needles of light litter the blacktop. The road has dropped you beyond the town limits, now miles, tick-off yawns. The prim madam inside your G.P.S. takes a long nap. Turning to your wife or dog you smile, acknowledging that the edge of town has once again been shattered.