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On a sharp bend
down a drunken HWY 78
between Columbus
and Absarokee
a white cross
stands on the shoulder
like a hitchhiker
forever passed by
in the daylight
the weathered cross
appears at peace
nestled in the long grass
and Queen Anne’s lace
until nightfall
when it leaps out
of the thick darkness
like a frantic soul
waving its arms
to flag down a ride
to get home:
“Stop!
don’t leave me here
I just wanted to get home”
you don’t stop
just a quick glance
a shudder in the heart
before your eyes
lock back onto
the thin white line
and yellow stripes
on a narrow highway
that separates you
from oblivion.
