New Mexico, or was that Oklahoma?
Dusty mud caked license plates advertise
a land of enchantment.
Enchanted mud spatters battered trucks
rumbling past us,
shaking and shoving.
Highway signs flap like mad butterflies
chained to the road's shoulder.
We pull the girls from the car--
their hair whips at us
in parking lot eddies.
Cold fingers reach up my untucked shirt
and pull Morgan's jacket as we
rush to the cigar store
Indian's somber safety.