Where are you?
Driving down a country road again,
playing Bobbie Gentry's "Ode to Billy Joe?"
There are more country roads in the world.
I hear crickets barely above
the ringing in my ears,
carelessly echoing in my brains
from six continuous months in the metropolis,
where we must report to our cages,
to the rat race.
Last night I went to sleep in Santa Fe,
to the sound of the coyotes' shrill wailing
above the crickets and
the ringing in my ears.
I began looking for my bag of dried fruit,
then looked out the window
and saw every star in the Milky Way.