A stretch
Of highway
13
Running from
A sign inscribed:
'Thank you for visiting.'
To
A sign that bears:
'Welcome.'
Still fields
Praire grass
Wildflowers
No houses
No people
No movement
Just insects
They excist to defy nothingness
We are
Briefly
Lost in the world
We are nowhere
There is
A place
Behind us
A place
Before us
But now
We are nowhere
Vast skies
Surround us
And meet
The horizon
Distantly
The black pavement
Burns
The sun
Scorches
And the wind
Blisters
Somewhere in nowhere
Signs
Drift by
Timid writing
Jumps out
Marking
Our progress
Sixty-five miles per hour
Seems so slow
Ever so slow
Even in nowhere.