The slant of the sun.
The moss-green mechanic
with his fat cigar,
chuffing like a chimney.
The little kid threesome
on the gravel shoulder,
fist-pumping the diesel driver.
and the undetected grasshopper
atop my dusty boot.
How slowly I move.
I’ve never been here,
but I know it.
Aremyfeetofftheground 