A Small Town’s Time

I measure time with a thermos
but can’t touch my toes.
And all the towns that are abandoned with the sun
make this cheap coffee taste a little better.
I’m armed with uncertainty
and ready for this clock to unfold into beautiful checkered linen,
and cover the road with picnics at every forgotten mile marker.

Maybe I’m wearing too many clothes
but the heat makes me sleepy
as headlights blind me.
It’s like I’m looking to heaven,
but when you follow the light
there’s only a ditch.

I watch signs blur past my vision.
I am weary with the orientation
and the air conditioning whispers
a chorus in only flat tones
to the lonely street lamps
dying of age in their small towns.