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Farewell Bend Motor Inn

I hope for rain.

I talk too much when I’m drunk. When I’m stoned. I don’t even know what I’m saying mostly.

I watch this river snake its way to the ocean. I don’t like oceans. I do like lakes. I can wrap my head around the idea of a lake.

I watch these trucks sulk their way through the port of entry. The state police checking weights and measurements, permits and logs. Everyone playing the same game but by different rules.

I watch a skunk drag its broken back half across the hot pavement towards the cool tall grass to wait for death, hoping it comes quickly.

I hope for rain.