Where It Ends
The edge of town arrives quickly, one last suburban tract,
one last inflatable swimming pool then a blue wash of sky
surfs over the blacktop.
There are many left turns ahead, but when you discover
a beat-up clapperboard hanging over cotton brush
you’ll know you have attained warp speed.
Keep left, turn down a hollow crick road where pent-up
pockets of sunlight bud in the thickets, keep on
until you see ahead the land leaking into the Mississippi.
No matter how many times you take this drive
you‘ll feel that you have only just now escaped
a story that will always end right here.
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