the highway

we’re on the highway where you died

music is playing

and she knows that I know

it’s so quiet

I keep looking up and down

tracing my eyes along the tree line

searching for a cross

searching for the patch of dirt on the news broadcast

searching for a piece of truck they left behind

looking away

because if I do see

I’m not sure I can handle it

I’m not sure I can look at the place

where the rest of your life

was left behind

where you were

where you stopped being

where you’d never be again

just a guy writing some sad poetry