the rural air is crisp in the day, 
it doesn’t choke like the night. 
then, the road is a
highway through the liminal, 
paved on a rampart between this world
and others. 

we stop at an old railroad trussell. 
in the night, it’s decayed.
rotted away at parts,
but the light fills in
what my mind corroded. 

dark and damp in spots,
sunbleached in others, 
it’s perpendicular to the road
and spans a shallow creek.
treetops like arrowheads
as well as power pylons 
are being grown in the horizon beyond. 

forsaking our lack of tetanus shots, 
we traverse the path
of stones and discarded steel rods
down to the creek bed,
but a distant tractor’s thrum
from the lot where we abandoned our car,
draws us away. 

we hit the road, 
Kesha on aux, 
drive back to Lexington
and to the nearest gas station
for snacks. 

we got lost on that road
one bored Spring night. 
today, we decided to come back-
interrogate all its dark spaces
in the light of day.