You told us a story, O God, 
of the old lost found: 

“I picked him up somewhere east of Pampa 
waving a piece of illegible cardboard. 
'Where to, son?' 
He moaned something about 'ol' man' 
and shut down. 
His eyes wore a blue-grey film 
as he pulled the dirty camo around him 
despite the warming day.” 

“I drew my rig off to the side 
where a ranch road winds down to meet the main route. 
He dropped out of my cab 
with not a word of thanks, 
puked, 
rolled his tongue through an empty vial 
and shambled over the cattle-guard.” 

“A quarter mile away peering down the breaks
someone in a Dodge Ram 
watched.” 

© 2010 Andy Ga