there is a
clear delineation
as you exit
dour abilene
a heavy haze
as the rusty old
oil derricks
began to mar an
orherwise
unremarkable vista

hillocks break
the stagnancy of
bewildering browns
with rows of
white windmills
sitting still
great edifices in
fiberglass like
rows of glaring
crosses while god
glares mercilessly
over a land she
abandoned midcreation

even the hawks
whom circled majestically
are replaced by
dastardly looking
bald headed vultures
i check in to
the hotel at the
edge of the wasteland
where the wind
howls mercilessly
serenading a fool
with a head that aches
in time with the
semis barreling as
fast as possible
out of sweetwater