back home, this would be an adventure
I would know what to do
something great would happen
and we would eat chapati on the side of the road.
Would. But we are here,
I am windswept, arms folded, staring into a stream off the shoulder
of 215.7 southbound at 7:00pm (it’s getting dark, we have 4 hours to go)
and the engine is spluttering. Maybe it will explode.
Every pothole will be a curse, every damn trucker
will be stress.
Will.
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