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."