South Dakota via Greyhound
Chris Moore
Constant waking in
leaving states,
bus seats and five
hundred pages of
dog-eared miles. To
4:30 A.M. local diners
in predawn
bible belt. The same
insidious waitress,
sweating black coffee
for proverbial farmers,
proud truckers. The same
spinning pie display
modeling colloquial.
Single slice of cherry revolves
imitating parishioners of
abandoned churches somewhere
across the Wyoming border.
