You've been driving for hours,
and sleep tries to overcome you.
You want to head home, but
it's no longer there.
All indications are that
serious problems lie ahead.
What can you do? Crash headlong
into a tree like Jackson Pollock?
Not you. You stay as steady
on the road as you can.
You finally find a motel, but
it's no oasis. The lonely room
smells of spray mixed with odors
it's trying to mask. There's a bible
in a drawer and you use it to lean
on as you sit on the bed writing
yourself a note for in the morning.
"Don't live this life again," you write.
"Don't ever live this life again."