we are all moving on slippery roads, in steel tombs, zipping through
forests and bogs alive with occasional rain
along a highway long on misfits and foragers
paved with lighted promises.
we are just on one quest away
to a better place
a safe place
before the next storm traps us
in its violence.
pulsating through our next drive-through
we read the board from A-Z, looking for our dream-
a Happy Meal box with the toy replica of our last meal-
looking to be close enough
and warm enough
and full enough
till the next exit light.