they’ve only just entered Indiana
the driver scans the road ahead familiar
green sweep under June sky

the banner advertising hay rides, sleepy
field of corn, thick stand of trees:

is the woman in the passenger seat
thinking with her eyes closed or praying?

thinking: of feet burrowed in warm
sand how skyscrapers rise across clear
water across pastel purple blur horizon
jumble of faint vertical lines like a ruined
pier in a misty pond

on the edge  

of Huckleberry Road, dusty
farm lane (this time last year)  

sun warm on her face
the driver’s mind is fixed on the end of the road  

pines line up like soldiers along weedy ditch
then orange barrels and chainlink

denuded land, endless crenalated roof
powerlines, cooling towers 

The driver says “what is THAT?” 

yellow cranes crouch subservient under slit windows
green shrinks away in the rearview mirrors  
the woman’s eyes are open now  

(she is praying.)