A Poem
To drive, endlessly.
Look at the sky.
It’s so orange.
Why is it so orange?
To drive, endlessly.
Into the fire,
The hills that are boiling;
The end that is nearing.
To drive, endlessly.
Like a lone coyote, slinking
Through the desert
As night winds howl.
To drive, endlessly.
North.
As North as you can go.
So the fire doesn’t reach you so quickly.
Luke Nelson Art 