Highway 84, South

Dark Slate Clouds
Loom behind us, Moving closer
Truck stopped, Capturing the moment
In our hands.
In the lens.
We turned this way
and that,
Indecisive of which
Vista
commands the most attention.
Our perception escalated.

Eventually,
we find ourselves
in Vaughn,
New Mexico.
Little crossroads town,
desolate and run-down.
Jenny's Diner - open 24 hours.
Pedro's Burritos - drive-up window.
Classic, Neon Motel signs - burned out.
The Snow is falling,
horizontal stream in high-beam.

Now,
parked in a field
on the outskirts of town,
next to an abandoned building,
Pedro's Burritos in our hands.
I think of this place, Vaughn.
What's it's story?
The image of the Girl
sitting on floor
just out of the snow
talking on the phone,
for hours,
in front of a gas station.

The snow has ceased.
Moon and Stars shine bright,
upon the white,
frozen crust.
Negro Modelo in my hand,
as I write.
Listening to
Barrington Levy,
Tricky,
El Magnifico,
Freestylers,
DJ Nasir,
Buju Baton.
I savor the moment,
and the memories,
before I fall asleep.