under crow
clack, click n’ slap
kinda’ hard to relax

my van whipped by metal chains
as my at-risk-self inches towards lockdown
hands flail   dog claws at the dash

on the only radio station
‘i’m not saying the mark of the beast
that we are at the end times’

i white-knuckle it   snow bird   snow blind   temporary person   back to my real life   my other country

search for the red flashing emergency lights of the semi ahead
an angel ‘Mike from Delaware’ driver for Walmart guides me ever over the peak of the Lassen National Forest
put chains on my van   we hit concrete   took them off

“can i offer you some money?”
“I just wanna help the Walmart customers”
calls me out of my sleep

i see four people in downtown Roseburg, Oregon walking
two of them carry large green plastic bags over their shoulders
their whole worlds

& i worry the cat pooed on the hotel bed
& i worry she peed on my down coat
on the hotel bed

Susanville had no power
the smoked out Diamond Mountain Casino the only jig in town
packed in this time of isolation

Wells Fargo & Vancity have blocked my accounts
of course i’m travelling

i’m not accustomed to kid shriek bouncing off
concrete walls of the Super 8 swimming pool

walk in my swim suit
past strangers have stopped breathing
lay backwards in the hot tub
102 degrees up my nose

i needed this
today the sun is at my back
black cows pepper
blonde fields trees
breathe peach bees
burst into song
evaporate into rosebud
while the planet
resets