Pit Stop in Kansas
by Elizabeth Dennison
The rattle and clank of our U-Haul
woke the sleeping dogs
who woke the sleeping man—he raved
and kicked the wall of his screened-in porch.
The diner was closed for the night
or forever, but we got out anyway
boots chomping at the gravel
to press our noses against the pane.
More houses flamed up around us
curtains parted and people peered.
I wanted to ask how they root down
so deep in a place between this and that.
But we drove on through
the blue seal of morning as the turbines
turned and winked out their hearts
like a thousand ships in the fog.