Image Source: Ernst Haas
American cloudburst, out on the road, out on the plains. 400 miles to nowhere: time to shut it down for the night.
All I want at the end is a place to lay my head. Jesus. Ten hours straight, and at least as much tomorrow. It’s a long, lonesome road. I don’t know if I was ready for that when I started this racket. But I know it now.
Lousy room, spackling chunks on the wall and awful flower paintings, and the air conditioner is loud. But the bed is soft. Damn, breakfast seems like years ago, but it was today. 400 miles and eleven hours ago. Same thing again tomorrow. Damn.
I should grab a bite to eat at the coffee shop, but I’m almost too tired. Maybe watch the television…nothing on. I could call somebody on the telephone…but who? Food…..too tired…..
Lousy room, but it’s a place to lay my weary head. I have to do this all over again in the morning….and again the next day…
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