There's a tractor-trailer
canted at sixty degrees
over a ditch
at the otherwise quiet
highway rest stop
I'm passing.
An oversize tow truck
is rigged to the front bumper.
Its companion is smaller
with a crane hooked
to the side of the vehicle in distress.
Despite the newsworthy spectacle
only one man is watching
this maneuver at 6:33 AM
clearly not a fellow driver.
Two dozen rigs are parked in the lot
in varying states of rest
but none of their operators
are gawking at the scene.
They've seen it before
or it's happened to them
or they grant their brother
the respect of communal privacy
or they're mingling with lot lizards
or they're too damn tired
from being on the road
to care.
I reach my destination
three minutes before
the projected time
of my GPS
and finish my last swig
of coffee.
Currently reading:
"Rattle: Spring 2020".
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