black boil hands
hot tar feet
bubbling flesh
to flat.
a sun-bleached weed springs up in my ear. a squirrel carcass buzzes
with flies until fur and bones are melded to my thigh with tire tracks.
my elbow is
a crumpled
soda can,
my breastbone burns
with cigarette ash
until i am flesh-gravel,
asphalt-body,
I-road to nowhere.
cars pass:
old SUVs and convertible couples
with horns, bent antennae, zebra seat covers, gun racks, eighteen rumbling wheels.
women laugh and men wave their
fingers in the wind as speed rushes their cars
to the next stretch of gravel.
I-road goes nowhere.
She's forgotten that roads
must be traveled.