the crow fought
for every inch
laboring low
to the ground
as the wind
a blast furnace
swirling around
the overpass
pummelled the
poor beleaguered
inky feathered splotch
time slowed as i
never so fully
understood another
creature so clearly

near as i can tell
this place is just one
giant truck stop
i have now officially
cirumnavigated the
entirety of the town
and all it seems to
be built upon is the
big rigs rolling
back and forth to
the scenic brown
of the border
one last oasis before
the congested hell
of austin and san antonio
a place to piss and
get something deep fried
with the gorgeous
view of fuck all that
encapsulates temple texas

and i keep driving
a beleagured old fool
no closer to whatever
new hell awaits me
around the next bend
that goddamned wind
a blast furnace straight
from old satan’s den
constantly howling
the song of tired crows
screaming into nothingness