ROAD TRIP
There is a stretch
in the long loping hills of Montana
where the laws of speed and time are not enforced
Where over every hill there’s another hill
that far to the bottom
and that far up the other side
A-sail, a-sail on an earth-rocked ship
two thousand feet above an ancient sea
Wheels endlessly humming
to the radio’s timeless tunes
Suspended forever midway
between those you’re running to
and those you’re running from