The sunset road
stretches out before me
like a pale, lined tongue.
Let me follow the limit.
I never wear a seat belt.
I never look both ways.
Lost inside a red,
deserted place
my figure is fine.
Driving alone,
junkyard tires
kicking up dust,
I am barely twenty-two,
tearing across Wyoming,
looking for horse plates.
C.A. MacConnell
